Neverending Nights: The Beginning
by Wizard Weatherwax
Summary: In a world desperate for Heroes… A cry for help would stretch across the land…And the call would be answered by the courageous… The daring… And the cunning… This is a story… About two Heroes… That lack all of those qualities.
1. Introduction

I do not own, nor am I responsible for the creation of most of these wonderful characters, namely Peter and Grayson. That honour belongs to Adam and Tawmis. You can visit their site in order to know more about Neverending Nights.

**… **

Heroes are not made… They are born.

They forge their destinies… To wage the war against Evil.

Facing unknown terrors… With only courage as their shield…

And in a world desperate for Heroes… A cry for help would stretch across the land…

And the call would be answered by the courageous… The daring… And the cunning…

This is a story… About two Heroes… That lack all of those qualities.

**Neverending Nights: The Beginning **


	2. The Bad Guy

**Chapter 1; The Bad Guy **

It was a dark and cold night. It could have been a warm night, but no… The Necromancer knew that as a Villain, he had to this the proper way.

Who ever heard of a Villain doing his nasty and evil deeds during a shiny day or warm night? That was just plain… Well… Enjoyable, really, but not Villain material.

And he was a Villain.

So, it was a very dark and cold night. And he was currently walking in a swamp. Not that he liked walking in a swamp. He hated it. All those stinky insects and horrible smells. He was nauseated by it all.

But he wasn't there for sightseeing or for fun. He was there for one particular reason: To build his Tower of Doom.

The Necromancer seemed Human, but his skin was so pale, that you had to wonder if he had ever stepped out of whatever cave he had lived in. He carried with him a Magical Staff… We presume that it was a Magical Staff, because it had the words "Magical Staff" engraved on it.

He was also wearing a black robe. He was a Necromancer, people expected that from him. A pink robe would not have the same effect.

Perhaps it would, but people wouldn't take him seriously. And he already had a problem in making people take him seriously.

"Damn this stinky swamp… I mean… There are just bugs in here…" – murmured the Necromancer.

A strange creature appeared out of nowhere. It had bat like wings, and an unusual tail that seemed ready to strike the creature's enemies. It was a small creature, yet he seemed quite capable of killing a larger foe.

"Shut up, you whining bastard. And you call yourself a Necromancer?" – mocked the Imp.

The Necromancer gave a sigh. He really hated the swamp. It was a horrible place for a Tower of Doom… But he had to follow the Code of Villains, and it stated that the Tower of Doom should be constructed in a smelly and dark place, in order to attract adventurers. Adventurers would never believe that a Villain had his Tower of Doom in a warm and nice beach.

"Look… You are my Familiar, therefore you are my servant, my minion… If I want to whine, you don't tell me to shut up!" – stated the Necromancer.

The Imp looked coldly at his so called Master.

"Shut up." – demanded the Imp.

"What did I tell you? Don't say that!" – ordered the Necromancer.

**"**Shut up." – repeated the Imp.

"If you say that one more time, I will…" – threatened the Necromancer.

"Shut up." – growled the Imp.

The Necromancer looked confused. Was he allowed to kill his Familiar? What about the League of Familiar's Rights? Would they sue him if he killed the stupid Imp?

"Okay… You win this round. But mark my words… I will have my revenge!" – said the Necromancer.

"Shut up, for crying out loud!" – shouted the Imp.

The Necromancer went suddenly silent.

"That's better." – murmured the Imp.

"I think I stepped on something…" – cried the Necromancer.

The Imp shrugged. How he hated this Wizard… He was a fool. Sure, he tried his best. But that wasn't saying much.

"This seems a good place for building your Tower of Doom." – said the Imp.

The Necromancer looked around and shrugged.

"It looks exactly the same as the other places in the swamp. Why is this place a good place for a Tower of Doom?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Because… I say so." – explained the Imp, while giving the Necromancer a threatening look.

"Ah… A good place, indeed." – said the Necromancer.

"That's the spirit. Now build the Tower of Doom." – demanded the Imp.

"Say what?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Build the Tower of Doom." – repeated the Imp.

The Necromancer looked around trying his best not to look his Familiar in the eyes.

"What is it, then?" – asked the Imp.

"How am I supposed to build the Tower of Doom?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp was speechless for a moment. He couldn't be that useless.

"What are you, pray tell?" – asked the Imp.

The Necromancer seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"A Villain?" – answered the Necromancer.

"Yes. What kind of Villain?" – asked the Imp.

"An evil and nasty Villain?" – suggested the Necromancer.

The Imp had to fight a sudden urge to hurt his Master.

"Good… And what are you besides being a Villain?" – asked the Imp.

"Is that a philosophical question?" – inquired the Necromancer.

That was the last straw.

"You are a damn Wizard!" – shouted the Imp.

The Necromancer seemed puzzled.

"That's right. I am a Wizard. So?" – asked the Necromancer.

"I knew I should have chosen a Witch… They like dancing naked during full moons…" – murmured the Imp.

"What have naked women have to do with this, my Familiar?" – asked the Necromancer.

"You are a Wizard… Cast spells… Create Tower of Doom… Got it?" – mocked the Imp.

"Oh? Use magic to create a Tower of Doom?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Yes." – answered the Imp.

"You want me to manipulate the vast and mysterious magical waves into serving my every command, therefore building us a Tower of Doom?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Yes." – answered the Imp.

"Oh! Why didn't you say so?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Shut up and do it." – ordered the Imp.

"Sorry. It can't be done." – answered the Necromancer.

The Imp fell to the ground, caught completely by surprise by that remark.

"You can't?" – asked the Imp.

"I am a Necromancer. I can control the Undead and Negative energies of the realms. Last time I check, building Towers of Doom wasn't a Necromantic Spell." – explained the Necromancer.

The Imp regained his posture and gave the Necromancer an evil stare.

"You can at least create Undead, then?" – asked the Imp.

"Easy as counting to three." – said the Necromancer.

"Then, create a vast army of Undead and order them to build your Tower of Doom.

Now!" – demanded the Imp.

"But…" – said the Necromancer.

"No buts… Just do it!" – shouted the Imp.

The Necromancer gave a sigh and casted a spell, which opened a strange and mystic portal

Several Undead started to walk through it. There were Skeletons, Zombies and some Ghouls.

"At last! Some evil and dark powers! Give the laugh!" – ordered the Imp.

"What laugh?" – asked the Necromancer.

"You know what I mean! I want to hear your evil laugh! Now!" - shouted the Imp.

" That? Must I?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Do it or I will bite you." – threatened the Imp.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" – laughed the Necromancer.

The Imp blinked.

"Please tell me that you were just warming up." – begged the Imp.

"Nope. I did my best, and I am sure that is what really counts in the end." – said the Necromancer.

"Say that again and I will eat your eyes in a very painful manner." – threatened the Imp.

"There is a way for you to eat my eyes that doesn't involve pain?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp looked at the sky and murmured some curse or two.

"Forget it. Make them build the Tower of Doom." – demanded the Imp.

"Who?" – asked the Necromancer.

"The Undead, you bastard!" – shouted the Imp.

"Oh! Them? They can't." – said the Necromancer.

The Imp almost had a heart attack because of the stressful situation.

"Why… can't… they?" – growled the Imp.

"Because they are mindless corpses with a hunger for living flesh." – explained the Necromancer.

"What?" – asked the Imp.

"All they can do is eat the living, sucking their brains and blood, and practice Law. Most of them were Lawyers, you know? And some still are." – explained the Necromancer.

"Then why did you summon them?" – asked the Imp.

"You told me to." – explained the Necromancer.

"Useless stinky corpses! What purpose do they serve then?" – asked the Imp.

"Besides being cheap minions, they usually are good for the Adventures first encounters, since the Undead aren't that smart." – explained the Imp.

"But… If they aren't smart then the Adventures will kill them all." – reasoned the Imp.

"Of course. I don't want to be rude with the Adventurers. They are like guests." – explained the Necromancer.

"Are you sure you read the books I gave you about Villains and Evil?" – asked the Imp.

"Yes. Quite fascinating." – said the Necromancer.

"And did you understand any of it?" – asked the Imp.

"They didn't have many pictures." – murmured the Necromancer.


	3. The Hero

**Chapter 2; The Hero **

All Fantasy Stories must have a Hero and this one isn't any different. Peter was a young man destined to do great things. Destiny had great plans for Peter.

Of course, the fact that Peter was lazy and preferred to die of boredom than to die a gruesome and painful death made it quite difficult for him to go out and live adventures.

Destiny had tried his best, but Peter didn't want to hear none of it. Destiny had promised riches beyond Peter´s wildest dreams, and Peter answered that he didn't care. Destiny had promised beautiful women, and Peter answered that he still didn't care. In the end, Destiny gave up and went home crying.

Peter just stood there and continued being lazy.

**… **

But what can be said about Peter?

Peter barely remembered his father. His earliest memory comes from living with his Uncle. Peter's mother rarely spoke of his father, always changing the subject as quickly as she could. When Peter's mother was summoned back to Forest of Silversprings, where she was originally from, she left Peter in the care of his Uncle.

Peter's Uncle put Peter to work immediately. However, Peter's Uncle struck a deal with the young boy. Rather than pay him any money, he would pay him in drinks. This started Peter on the drinking path early in his life, enjoying the numbing sensation alcohol brought to his body. While working in the Red Dragon Tavern - this was where Peter saw his first dwarf.

The dwarf introduced himself - with one of the most unique accents he had ever heard - as Pawl the Dorf. Pawl explained to Peter that there was more to life that working in a tavern and drinking (but Peter didn't fall for that nonsense!) Pawl also described how his people lived below the surface in magnificent caverns. Peter grew interested in wanting to see that - and the rest of the world.

Speaking with his Uncle about his sudden urge to explore the world, his Uncle explained that first Peter would need to get in touch with himself and nature to understand the world. In Peter's mind, this meant camping out - alone, no less - in his Uncle's backyard. Back there, day in and day out, he tried to talk to the deer, the mountain lions, all with various results.

When he finally believed he was ready, he told his Uncle that it was time for him to leave. This is when Pawl the Dwarf introduced Grayson the Fighter to Peter, saying that Peter would need a strong right hand man in case they ran into any danger. Peter and Grayson hit it off - and decided to sit down for a drink to discuss their great plans of exploring the world.

And that was sixteen years ago. Destiny had failed once again.

**… **

Peter was currently taking care of his Uncle's backyard.

"I hate bugs… I really hope they aren't part of Nature." – mumbled Peter.

Oh, yes… And there was that. Peter knew that by following the Nature path he only had two options as a career: Druid or Ranger.

Well, since he couldn't cast any spells (and he had tried, usually when drunk) he decided that the he would be a Ranger. This didn't mean that he was a great and wise Ranger. The words "great" and "wise" didn't show up when you tried to describe Peter. He was still a Ranger, just not a very good one.

Peter had a really hard time with most of the Ranger's skills. He had never seen a forest. He couldn't even recognize most of the plants, monsters and animals that he spotted.

"Oh! Some footprints… Are they from a rabbit or a bear? Perhaps a duck? Well… It was definitely a small animal. So it must have been a cow." – guessed the Ranger.

And he couldn't talk with animals, even with gestures. The animals simply ignored Peter or mocked him.

"Oh? A bird! And he is right near me… Oh, joy! I will try to talk with him…" – stated Peter.

The bird looked at Peter for a moment and then decided to ignore him. It was either that, or to peck Peter´s eyes.

"Come, cute bird. Fly to my hand! Do it! Please? Please? It isn't that hard!" – said Peter.

The bird eyed Peter with an evil stare. Peter didn't notice and continued to call the bird.

"Do it for Uncle Peter! That's a good boy!" – begged Peter.

Surprisingly, the bird did fly to Peter´s hand. The young Ranger couldn't believe his eyes.

"I did it! I did it! I am the best Ranger of the world! Or at least the best Ranger of this backyard…" – shouted Peter.

But before Peter could start singing a song about Champions and Losers, he noticed that the bird seemed to be concentrating on something. He almost seemed as if he was about to…

"You wouldn't dare!" – stated Peter.

The bird dared… And then flew away. Peter just stood there looking at his dirty and stinky hand…

"I really hope that birds aren't part of Nature, too." – mumbled the Nature loving Ranger.

I know, I know… But he is the Hero of this story.

And may the gods protect us!


	4. The Sidekick

**Chapter 3; The Sidekick **

And all Fantasy Stories must have, or at least should have, a Sidekick. And in this case, the Sidekick was Grayson.

Grayson didn't mind being the Sidekick. He was too smart to be the Hero.

Grayson knew that Villains had already a hard time memorizing the names of all the Heroes in the realms, so they didn't bother to learn the names of the Sidekicks.

And that was great, as far as Grayson was concerned. He could live with that!

How could the Villains plot to kill him, if they didn't even know his name? Or better yet, didn't even know that he existed?

Let the Heroes get all the credit and glory. They would eventually end up being at the Death lists of many Villains, and subjected to many dangers and hard work.

Destiny had once attempted to convince Grayson to become a Hero, but Grayson had said no and kicked Destiny on the arse.

The easy and less dangerous life of the Sidekick was what Grayson loved.

**… **

But what can be said about Grayson?

Even at a young age, Grayson was always considered "the Ladies' Man." It was rare to see Grayson without a woman close by him. On a trip with his mother to the small town of Galana, Grayson met the "woman of his dreams." However, it rapidly turned out that the woman was anything but a woman made of dreams - but rather nightmares.

Intimidated by her (as in being fearful for his life!) he finally mustered up the courage to break it off with her. Whatever unspeakable event happened that day, it shook Grayson to the core. Where as before, he always had young ladies around him, suddenly he was a recluse, shunning contact with women!

One day, Grayson bumped into a dwarf coming out of a linguistics class. Colliding into one another, Grayson soon found himself being scolded by the small dwarf, with a rather unusual accent. Helping the dwarf pick up his books ("How to be a Dwarf", "Dwarves: Speak It And Be Heard", etc) he asked the dwarf where that accent was from.

The Dwarf explained that he was a dwarf from the Vista Kingdom of Dwarves. Having met a few of those dwarves helping his mother with trade supplies, Grayson commented that the accent seemed different. The dwarf shrugged him off and changed the topic by introducing himself as Pawl the Dwarf.

Grayson befriended the dwarf, figuring that the dwarf could help with communication for trade supplies. However, it was not long before Grayson realized other dwarves seemed vastly annoyed by Pawl's presence (or perhaps his insulting accent). Realizing this was ruining relations with the dwarves, Grayson resumed handling the trades for his mother.

One day, Pawl approached Grayson and told him that another person he had recently met was thinking about exploring the world. Grayson was still very young, but figured this might be something worth checking out.

Pawl the Dwarf introduced Grayson to Peter, whose Uncle ran the Red Dragon Tavern. It was there that Peter explained his desire to see the rest of the world. Grayson was interested in everything Peter was saying, and agreed it was time to leave their boring lives and go see the world.

And that was sixteen years ago. Destiny decided to quit his job.

**… **

"How much for that awesome sword?" – asked Grayson.

Grayson was very excited. He had saved enough money to buy his first sword. He would finally be able to kill someone. Wasn't that awesome?

But the Shopkeeper didn't seem very excited. He looked at Grayson as if he was merely an inconvenience.

**"**Which one?" – demanded the Shopkeeper.

Grayson started to answer but immediately stopped. Was that a test? He didn't know which sword was the best. He had never held a sword in his entire life. That was rather sad for a Fighter, but he didn't have much money… And the money he had was usually spent on ale and… Just on ale, really.

"That one." – said Grayson.

The Shopkeeper shrugged.

"Point it out to me, please. Last time I checked I wasn't a Diviner." – mocked the Shopkeeper.

Oh, by the Gods! That was a test! Grayson could sense that the Shopkeeper was testing him, in order to know if he was a powerful Warrior. Grayson started to tremble a bit. He hated tests.

"The one on your right…" – said Grayson.

"Oh! Some progress! That only leaves me with twenty guesses to which sword you are referring to." – mumbled the Shopkeeper.

Damn that guy was good. Grayson really thought he had passed the test with that answer. Okay… He had to stay calm.

"The best one, Shopkeeper." – stated Grayson.

The Shopkeeper showed him a mocking smile.

"The Short Sword?" – asked the Shopkeeper.

Grayson looked at the swords on the right. There were so many swords… Which one was the Short Sword?

"A great Warrior such as me deserves only the best, Shopkeeper." – said Grayson.

Okay. That was neither a yes nor a no. Grayson was beginning to sweat a bit.

"Then you don't want the Short Sword?" – asked the Shopkeeper in a surprised manner.

Grayson was confused for a moment. The way the Shopkeeper had said that… He seemed surprised by Grayson´s answer. Did he just reject the best sword the Shopkeeper had? Had he failed the test?

"Errr… Maybe." – answered Grayson.

Okay… Think, Grayson, think… Which one is the Short Sword?

"Perhaps you want a more… manly sword?" – asked the Shopkeeper.

"I do?" – said Grayson.

Yes! He had done it! He had passed the test!

"How about a Bastard Sword?" – asked the Shopkeeper.

"What did you call me?" – demanded Grayson.

"What?" – inquired the Shopkeeper.

"You just mocked me! You called me a bastard, ya bastard!" – shouted Grayson.

"No… I said "How about a Bastard Sword?"." – explained the Shopkeeper.

"There is no such thing as a Bastard Sword. You just made that up in order to offend me! I should cut you in half for insulting me!" – stated Grayson.

"With what? You don't have a sword, remember?" – mocked the Shopkeeper.

"Oh! Can you give me a sword, so I can cut you in half for insulting me?" – begged Grayson.

"No." – said the Shopkeeper.

"Oh!" – mumbled Grayson.

"I can sell you a sword, so you can cut me in half for insulting you." – continued the Shopkeeper.

"Ah! So you did insult me!" – shouted Grayson.

"Not yet. But continue testing my patience and I will think of something." – promised the Shopkeeper.

"Look! It is getting late! Just give that sword over there!" – said Grayson.

"Congratulations." – said the Shopkeeper.

"For what? Did I choose a good sword?" – asked Grayson.

"No. You just chose the only weapon in display that wasn't a sword. That's a Mace." – explained the Shopkeeper.

**"**You sure?" – asked Grayson.

"Positive." – answered the Shopkeeper.

"Really?" – insisted Grayson.

"It doesn't even have a pointy edge…" – explained the Shopkeeper.

"Oh? A Mace? Ah! I was just testing you! I knew it was a Mace all along. Just wanted to see if you knew that. What have you got to say about that?" – lied Grayson.

"I feel disturbed by your lack of faith in my knowledge about weapons. Me… The owner of a Shop that sells weapons." – said the offended Shopkeeper.

"Right… Yes… Just wanted to… Look! Just give me a sword! Any sword will do! You choose!" – begged Grayson.

The Shopkeeper picked up a sword and gave it to Grayson.

"Wow! What kind of sword is it?" – asked Grayson.

"It is a wooden Sword. So you don't hurt yourself. That will be five gold coins." – stated the Shopkeeper.


	5. The Dwarf

**Chapter 4; The Dwarf **

What Fantasy Story would be complete without a Dwarf?

Indeed, Dwarves are a great addiction to every Fantasy Story. Let's face it… Their culture is really interesting, their honour and friendship towards their companions is unmatched and they can kick some serious arse.

Indeed… What Fantasy Story would be complete without a Dwarf like that?

I mean, besides this one?

**… **

But what can be said about Pawl the Dorf?

If one was to believe what Pawl the Dorf insisted, this young dwarf was born in the Vista Dwarven Kingdom. However, at a very young age, his parents ventured out of the Vista Dwarven Kingdom and went to the human city of Arkadia. It was there that his parents handed him over to a human family to be raised. Pawl's parents left him, and have not been seen or heard from again. As Pawl grew up, he slowly came to realize he wasn't getting any taller while his "brothers and sisters" were growing rather rapidly.

And then when the facial hair came in at an extremely young age, when his older "brother" hadn't gotten any - Pawl began to notice that there were quite a few differences between him and "his family." He finally decided to ask his "father" about these differences, and he explained that Pawl's mother and father had dropped him off with them to take care of them.

Pawl had no complaints. It was a good family, and they did take care of him. But he wanted to learn about his own heritage and discover the roots of his family. When he asked his father about where his real father and mother were from, his new "father" explained that they were from a land beneath the surface called Vista Kingdom. He also went on to explain that the reason that his parents had left him in the care of the humans was because evil and vile things lived in that land. Every night, day in and day out, his new father would remind him of this.

Eventually, it had been pounded into his head so much that he actually became afraid of the dark, and developed a strong sense of claustrophobia.

One day, curiosity over took him and Pawl the Dwarf went out into the world to find out who he really was. He ended up in the City of Neverending, where he met his first dwarf. Amazing by the vocal difference and accent, Pawl realized in order to be respected - he had to have that same accent. So Pawl took up a linguistics class.

It wasn't long after that, that he happened to be leaving the class one day, and ran into human by the name of Grayson. They befriended one another and shared their mutual desire to go out and see the world one day.

Noticing that dwarves liked to drink, Pawl realized he had to build up his non-existent alcohol tolerance. Going to the local Red Dragon Tavern, he met a young Half-Elf named Peter, whose Uncle paid him in drinks. Pawl realized this was the perfect person to befriend - so that they could both drink - for free.

An intoxicated night, Peter rambled on about wanting to venture out into the world - Pawl recalled his conversation with Grayson and told Peter he had just the person for him to meet. He introduced Peter and Grayson, and told them that if they ever needed a map - to come to him. He was an expert cartographer (or so he claimed).

And that was sixteen years ago. Destiny just didn't care anymore.

**… **

"I thank the gods that I found you, Mr. Pawl. When I heard that there was a Dwarf living in our great city, I was very surprised and relieved." – said the Merchant.

"Aye? And why be that, lad?" – asked Pawl.

The Merchant seemed a bit uneasy. What kind of accent was that? He had never heard a Dwarf talk like that. Well… He was a Dwarf, so he had to know what he was doing. The Merchant gave a small laugh. Perhaps he was just imagining things.

"A Dwarven King is coming over. We are going to negotiate some trading. You know… Diamonds in exchange for food supplies, weapons in exchange for some raw materials." – explained the Merchant.

The Dwarf seemed a bit confused, but said nothing.

"You don't have to say anything important, really. Just say hello and talk about Dwarf stuff. Make the Dwarven King feel at home." – continued the Merchant.

Suddenly the Dwarf looked really confused and worried.

"In exchange for your little service… I will pay you one hundred gold coins." – stated the Merchant.

The Dwarf nodded in agreement. The Merchant still wondered why the Dwarf was so nervous. I mean… He only had to talk with the Dwarven King about Dwarf stuff. How hard can that be to a Dwarf?

"He should be arriving any minute now. Won't this be fun?" – asked the Merchant.

The Dwarf looked a bit troubled. But the Merchant didn't notice it.

"Ah! King Goldlover!" – greeted the Merchant.

Three Dwarves entered the room. Two of them were guards, because both were wearing a heavy armor and wielding and axe. The other one, the King, was also wearing a heavy armor, but he wasn't armed. He had a crown on his head.

"Hello, my friend. How are things going with you and your kin?" – greeted King Goldlover.

"Couldn't be better. What about you and your kin?" – asked the Merchant.

"Can't really complain." – answered King Goldlover.

"That's great! Please, feel free to sit down. Want some ale?" – inquired the Merchant.

The three Dwarves nodded and accepted the drinks.

"Great ale, my friend!" – said King Goldlover.

The Merchant couldn't be happier. Everything was going as he had expected. Dwarves were very short-tempered. He couldn't afford any mistakes.

"Ah! I have a surprise for you, King Goldlover." – said the Merchant.

"You will make discounts this time?" – mocked King Goldlover.

"Even better!" – said the Merchant with a smile.

"You are going to give us the merchandise for free?" – asked King Goldlover.

"Well… Okay! Not that better… I want you to meet, Mr. Pawl." – said the Merchant.

Pawl the Dorf bowed before the King.

"A fellow Dwarf in a Human city? Really? How interesting." – stated King Goldlover.

"Pawl is one of my best business partners. Aren't we, my friend?"

Pawl the Dorf nodded.

"He doesn't talk a lot, does he?" – asked King Goldlover.

"Oh! He is a bit shy, King Goldlover… But he really wants to talk with you. Don't you, Mr. Pawl?" – said the Merchant.

Pawl the Dorf just stood there and smiled nervously. You could see that he was worried about something.

"I would love to hear your stories, Dwarven Brother. Please share them with us." – asked King Goldlover.

The Merchant was beginning to lose his patience. Talk you damn Dwarf! Talk! They should have already started the negotiations. The idiot was ruining everything.

The King was beginning to lose his patience, as well.

"Do you think I am unworthy of your time, then? Do you think that you are better than me, just because you live with the Humans?" – growled King Goldlover.

"No, no, no! He is just shy! Talk, Mr. Pawl! Now!" – demanded the Merchant.

But Pawl the Dorf said nothing. He just stood there smiling nervously.

"I think I was never so insulted in all my life!" – remarked King Goldlover.

The Dwarven Guards nodded. The King had never been so insulted in all his life.

Pawl the Dorf looked at the Merchant and then at the King. What should he do?

"If this bastard doesn't talk with me, the business is off! I hate being insulted!" – stated King Goldlover.

The Merchant couldn't believe his eyes. What was happening here? Why was that idiot doing this?

"Please! Wait! I beg you for a bit more patience. Pawl, I demand you to talk with King Goldlover. Now!" – ordered the Merchant.

Pawl the Dorf looked at the Merchant and shrugged. He had tried his best to prevent a diplomatic catastrophe.

"Aye! Hello, me King!" – said Pawl.

Everyone in the room seemed to relax and breathe with more ease.

"Finally…" – said the Merchant.

"It is about time. I demand an explanation." – said King Goldlover.

"Me a bit shy, me King. But now we can talk about me life." – explained Pawl.

The three Dwarves looked at each other with a confused look. What kind of accent was that? Was that Dwarf mocking them again?

"Errr… Yes… About that…" – said King Goldlover.

"Aye! Me love a good ale and to kick some Goblin's arse! Aye!" – shouted Pawl.

The three Dwarves were beginning to feel really insulted. Dwarves didn't talk like that. Why was he talking like that?

"Kick some Goblin's arse? What the hell are you saying?" – demanded King Goldlover.

"Aye! Me saying that me like fighting and breaking some Orc´s skulls!" – explained Pawl.

The Merchant looked at the three Dwarves and then at Pawl the Dorf. This wasn't going according to his plans. The three Dwarves looked rather insulted, instead of feeling more comfortable.

"Me axe be bloody ready!" – shouted Pawl.

"Your axe is what? Are you threatening us?" – asked King Goldlover.

The two Dwarven Guards started to look more menacing after that possible threat.

"Drink ale!" – said Pawl.

"Are you mocking us?Making fun of your own kin? How dare you!" – growled King Goldlover.

The Merchant started to tremble and sweat. Making fun of their kin? Mocking them? What was happening here?

"Me no mock ye, me King. Me be a Dwarf as ye be." – explained Pawl.

"What? That's even a bigger insult than not talking with me. It was better when you weren't talking at all." – said King Goldlover.

"Let's kill some puny Kobolds! We shall drink ale from their skulls!" – shouted Pawl.

"That's the last straw! Living with humans doesn't give you the right to mock the more traditional Dwarves that continue living the traditions of your ancestors." – shouted King Goldlover.

"I… Look, King Goldlover…" – said the Merchant.

"I haven't forgotten about you, you stinky bastard! We came here in good faith in order to negotiate some merchandise. And what do we get? Insults from your business partner!" – shouted King Goldlover.

"Wait! I had never seen this Dwarf before today's meeting! I don't even know him!" – explained the Merchant.

"You expect us to believe you don't know your own business partner? How dare you still mock us after all this?" – stated King Goldlover.

"No! Wait! I didn't mean to insult you!" – explained the Merchant.

"That's it! It is war, then! I declare war on your stupid city! May it burn one thousand times! Come, lads! We have a war to plan." – said King Goldlover.

"No! Please! Wait!" – begged the Merchant.

The three Dwarves left the room, leaving the Merchant and Pawl the Dorf all by themselves.

"A war? What have I done?" – muttered the Merchant.

Pawl the Dorf looked hesitantly at the Merchant.

"What? What can you possible want to say after all the mess you did? You just started a damn war with your own kin? What do you want to say now?" – demanded the Merchant.

"Errr… Will me still receive me payment?" – asked Pawl in a shyly manner.


	6. The Imp

**Chapter 5; The Imp **

"Why are you yelling at me?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Because you are a damn idiot, idiot!" – shouted the Imp.

"But…" – said the Necromancer.

"But nothing! You are damn useless! You can't even build a simple Tower of Doom!" – stated the Imp.

"Well… I have created an army of mindless Undead followers, ready to sacrifice their lives… errr… unlives for us." – murmured the Necromancer.

"That's just it! They are mindless! That's like asking a hammer to defend us from a Dragon!" – explained the Imp.

"Well… If it was an enchanted hammer with some kind of magical personality, perhaps it could defend us from a Dragon." – suggested the Necromancer.

The Imp seemed to bright up after hearing that comment.

"And can you do that?" – asked the Imp.

"What?" – asked the Necromancer.

**"**That hammer thingy of yours?" – insisted the Imp.

"Ah! The enchanted hammer with a magical personality that could defend us from a Dragon?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Hello? Is there some kind of echo in here?" – mocked the Imp.

"That hammer thingy?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Yes!" – shouted the Imp.

"No." – answered the Necromancer.

The Imp looked disappointed.

"It figures…" – murmured the Imp.

"I can create more Undead, though." – said the Necromancer.

"Yes… Let's create more Undead… I mean we still have room in the swamp for at least more twenty or thirty thousand of those mindless buggers." – said the Imp in a sarcastically tone.

"That's the spirit!" – said the Necromancer with a bright smile.

"I was being sarcastic!" – explained the Imp.

"Really?" – asked the Necromancer.

"I even rolled my eyes, for crying out loud!" – shouted the Imp.

"I thought you were just sleepy." – explained the Necromancer.

"I think that I am about to commit a mutiny." – threatened the Imp.

"Wouldn't that require that I be a Captain and that we should be on some sort of boat?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Oh? Now suddenly you are a Loremaster?" – mocked the Imp.

"Of course. We Wizards must have an unbelievable high Intelligence in order to understand the magical energies and spells." – explained the Necromancer.

"You are right." – stated the Imp.

"About what?" – asked the Necromancer.

"I don't believe in your high Intelligence." – mocked the Imp.

"You are such a kidder, Imp." – said the Necromancer.

"Shut up and let me think! There must be another way…" – mumbled the Imp.

"Another way for what, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Go and play with those Undead, will you?" – shouted the Imp.

"Play what?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Play cards for all I care! Just go!" – ordered the Imp.

"Wow! That will be so much fun! Thanks for the idea, Imp." – said the Necromancer.

"Yeah, yeah… Go!" – ordered the Imp.

The Necromancer picked up a deck of cards and started walking towards the Undead.

"There must be a way… Some way…" – murmured the Imp.

"Who wants to play cards with me?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Some way… Some way…" – continued the Imp.

"Does "Brains… Brains… Brains…" mean yes or no?" – asked the Necromancer.

"But how? Perhaps…" – said the Imp.

"Hey! You there, stop eating your cards! And stop cheating, Mr. Skeleton. You shouldn't cut Mr. Zombie's arms… He can't play that way." – shouted the Necromancer.

"But that would require a sacrifice… A very big sacrifice…" – murmured the Imp.

"You have won Mr. Skeleton. Congratulations! Who wants to play again?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Well… What he doesn't know… Won't hurt him…" – said the Imp with an evil smile.

"What won't hurt me, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Nothing!" – lied the Imp.


	7. The Uncle

**Chapter 6; The Uncle **

"Peter? Are you talking with animals again?" – demanded Peter´s Uncle.

Peter looked at the small and bald man that was standing behind him. The young Ranger looked embarrassed for a moment and then nodded.

"Yes, Uncle…" – answered Peter.

"And what did I say about that topic?" – asked Uncle (Name _is_ actually Uncle).

Peter gave a sigh.

"Only to talk with animals when I am drunk…" – said Peter obediently.

Uncle looked at Peter and then shrugged.

"Are you drunk?" – asked Uncle.

Peter looked ashamed.

"No…" – murmured Peter.

"I didn't hear you!" – shouted Uncle.

"No!" – answered Peter.

"Ah! Then if you are not drunk how could you be talking with animals?" – demanded Uncle.

Peter wasn't the brightest brick on the wall, but he knew how to follow his Uncle's logic.

"You are right. I was just talking with myself." – said Peter automatically.

Uncle nodded.

"That is better. That means you are just weird, not a damn madman." – said Uncle.

"But Uncle… I am a Ranger…" – said Peter weakly.

"A Ranger? You? Bah! You can't even use a bow." – mocked Uncle.

Peter looked offended.

"I can use the bow. I even have one. I bought the best bow in the store." – said Peter.

"Really? Why don't you use it?" – asked Uncle.

Peter looked embarrassed.

"I wasted all of my money on the bow… I didn't have any more money to buy arrows…" – explained Peter.

Uncle laughed.

"Bah! You may have the best bow on the store, but so what? Are you going to shoot invisible arrows at your foes?" – jested Uncle.

Peter gave a hopeful smile.

"That's not a bad idea. Do you think it could work?" – asked Peter.

"Well… I mean… No… Of course not… Your enemies wouldn't feel anything." – explained Uncle.

"What if I told them that they had been hit?" – suggested Peter.

"So?" – asked Uncle.

"I mean that they would think that they were hit and die." - explained Peter.

"But… But… If they weren't hit with an arrow, they can't die." – said Uncle.

"Ah! But it is an invisible arrow! That means they can't see it!" – explained Peter.

"Yes… Okay… But they can't feel any pain… How can they die? They were shot with an invisible arrow that doesn't exist!" – said Uncle, failing to see Peter´s reasoning.

"They don't know that." – said Peter.

"Know what?" – said Uncle.

"Know that the invisible arrow doesn't exists." – explained Peter.

"But they can't die because of nothing!" – shouted Uncle.

"Why not? Seems quite a good way to die." – reasoned Peter.

"Die from what?" – asked Uncle.

"Nothing." – said Peter.

"But you can't die from nothing. You have to die from something!" – said Uncle.

"Isn't nothing a something'" – asked Peter.

"How can nothing be a something? Nothing is nothing!" – shouted Uncle.

"But if nothing is nothing, then nothing has to be something!" – suggested Peter.

Uncle looked at Peter in a strange way.

"My brain hurts…" – murmured Uncle.

"See? And it is because of nothing!" – said Peter.

"No… No… I think it is because of this pointless and stupid discussion." – explained Uncle.

"It isn't stupid. It is philosophical and educational." – said Peter.

"Education hurts my arse. I hate Education. It makes people think they are smarter than others that aren't." – explained Uncle.

"So?" – asked Peter.

"I hate people that are smarter than me." – stated Uncle.

"Do you hate me, Uncle?" – asked Peter.

"Of course not, Peter." – answered Uncle.

"Really?" – said Peter.

"I am not that stupid, Peter." – explained Uncle.

"Do you mean that you aren't stupid enough that you would hate your own nephew?" – asked Peter.

"No. I mean that am not that stupid." – explained Uncle.

"Hey! You can't say that about your own nephew!" – shouted Peter.

"Why not? I have said it several times by now, and nothing bad happened to me." – mocked Uncle.

"Don't you feel ashamed? With a guilty conscience?" – asked Peter.

"Nope." – said Uncle.

"You are a cold hearted bastard." – said Peter.

"I know you are, but what am I?" – mocked Uncle.

"Oh, that is really mature." – said Peter.

"I have given farts that are smarter than you!" – continued Uncle.

"I am not hearing you!" – said Peter.

"You are so ugly, that ugly people think you are ugly!" – said Uncle.

"Calm down, Peter… Calm down…"- murmured Peter.

"You are so…" – said Uncle.

"You are so old, that you have to ask old ladies to help you cross the road!" – shouted Peter.

Uncle seemed surprised by that response.

"Okay! You win this battle. But you have not won the war!" – growled Peter.

"Bring it on, old oak!" – said Peter.

"Okay! You asked for it, village idiot!" – snarled Uncle.

Both started yelling and cursing each other for several hours.

"You are really starting to annoy me…" – said Uncle.

"Had enough?" – asked Peter.

"You wish!" – stated Uncle.

"I wish what?" – asked Peter.

"Arrrggghhhhh! How can someone be that stupid?" – shouted Uncle.

"It takes years and years of practice." – mocked Peter.

"I bet…" – said Uncle.

"And a stupid Uncle." – concluded Peter.

Uncle was speechless after that remark. Peter had won.

"Ah! Take that! I win! I win!" – shouted Peter.

Uncle gave Peter an angry look.

"Indeed. You have won. Do you want the prize?" – asked Peter.

"Prize? Really? Great! Of course I want it!" – said Peter.

"And the prize is… To clean the inn." – said Uncle.

"Huh?" – asked Peter.

"Shut up and go clean the tavern!" – demanded Peter.

"What?" – asked Peter.

"I am still your boss. Go and clean the tavern." – demanded Uncle.

"But…" – asked Peter.

"Aren't you glad you won?" – asked Uncle.

"But…" – said Peter.

"And if you say "but" one more time, you will have to clean the tavern with only a toothbrush." – threatened Uncle.

"Okay… You win…" – said Peter.

"On second thought… You will still clean the tavern with only a toothbrush." – mocked Uncle.

"Why would you that to your own nephew?" – asked Peter.

"Because I can." – explained Uncle.

"A good reason. I still hate you, though." – murmured Peter.


	8. Alan the Astounding

**Chapter 7; ****Alan the Astounding**

Uncle sighed. His tavern was as empty as Peter´s head. That wasn't good for business. There was only one costumer, a strange looking Halfling that had been there drinking for hours. Strangely, Uncle had only served him one drink. How could the damn creature still be drinking after all that time?

"Everything alright, mister?" – asked Uncle.

The Halfling looked at Uncle and nodded.

"I am alright, barkeeper. And you know why I am alright?" – asked the Halfling.

Uncle looked confused and shrugged.

"Because I am… Alan the Astounding!" – shouted Alan.

**… **

But what can be said about Alan the Astounding?

Rugged is the life of Alan the Astounding. Growing up in Green Hills, Alan was always very secluded, very much to himself. During this recluse behaviour was when Alan discovered his father's books of magic. His father had been a well known wizard, throughout the land. (Or at least known throughout Green Hills).

Alan became obsessed with magic, swearing that he would be the best known mage in all the land! (He would settle for Green Hills, first, however). By the age of sixteen, he was doing simple magic tricks that were often done at kiddy birthday parties. He swore that this was a start, just to help fund his magical career as a wizard.

Unfortunately, Alan never got past that. He actually became "the most well known wizard" - for kiddy parties. There wasn't a family out there that wanted Alan the Astounding to amaze their kids with his simple magic tricks. After years of doing this, and realizing he was never going to be anything more than that, Alan turned to drinking.

Alan began drinking rather excessively (it would seem everyone in Neverending Nights drinks excessively!). One day, Alan was recruited for a kiddy birthday party - and he took the job. However, Alan was still extremely drunk.

While intending to merely light the candles on the cake, Alan's magic went out of control and ending up burning down the home of a very rich client. The word about Alan got around, and soon enough he wasn't even getting jobs for kiddy parties.

But Alan lived in a world of denial. He still considered himself the greatest wizard ever. (And he will actually deny ever doing kiddy birthday parties - rather, he has big tales of single handily killing dragons while the rest of his party members ran around in the cave, utterly feared by the dragon)!

**… **

Uncle tried his best not to laugh.

"And why are you so astounding, Alan the Astounding?" – asked Uncle, with a mocking tone.

Alan looked at Uncle and sighed.

"I am… A powerful Wizard! Nay! The most powerful of spellcasters! Tremble before me, you unbeliever!" – yelled Alan.

"Errr…" – murmured Uncle.

"I am… Alan the Astounding." – stated Alan while drinking his ale.

"Sure… Right…" – said Uncle.

"You don't believe me, do you? - asked Alan.

"Oh? Me? Of course I believe you, Mr. Alan the Great." – said Uncle with diplomatic tones.

"Astounding." – corrected Alan.

"What?" – asked Uncle.

"Alan the Astounding." – said the Halfling with an angry look.

"Sorry, sir." – said Uncle.

Uncle gave a sigh. Alan the Astounding? Alan the Drunk was more like it.

"I have never seen you before, sir. Are you new to our fair city?" – inquired Uncle.

Alan nodded.

"I am waiting for a friend of mine. Daniel is his name." – explained the Halfling.

"Never heard of him." – confessed Uncle.

"That's because you are a commoner, one that is not gifted in the Magical Arts. Everyone that is gifted in the Magical Arts knows of Daniel." – explained Alan.

Uncle just nodded. He knew better than to argue with a costumer.

"Do you want to order anything else while you wait for your friend, sir?" – asked Uncle, in hopes of getting more coins that day.

Alan seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"No. I will be fine with this one." – answered Alan.

Uncle looked disappointed.

"Are you sure?" – insisted Uncle.

"Do you doubt the words of… Alan the Astounding?" – said Alan with a threatening tone.

"Well…" – said Uncle.

"Do you doubt the words of a Wizard, a Master of the Great Art? A Lord of Spells, a Caster of Doom? Tremble, you unbeliever! Tremble if you doubt my words!" – shouted Alan.

"No, no, no…" – said Uncle with haste.

"If I say that I will be fine with this one drink, then I mean it. I will be fine with this one drink." – growled Alan.

"A thousand pardons, sir." – begged Uncle.

"A Wizard always knows what he wants. And I am a Wizard. Following this simple logic, we can assume that I, since I am a Wizard, always know what I want." – yelled Alan.

Uncle nodded and gestured the Halfling to calm down.

"I am terribly sorry, sir. I believe in you. You will be fine with that one drink."

"Good. Barkeeper?" – said Alan.

"Yes, sir?" – asked Uncle

"Get me another drink." – ordered Alan.


	9. Daniel the Destructive

**Chapter 8; ****Daniel ****the Destructive**

Daniel was apparently lost. He hated big cities such as the City of Neverending, because it seemed that every time he went to one, he would get lost. And he hated to get lost, because that meant he didn't know where he was. And that was bad for a Wizard; a Wizard should always know where he was.

"Well… I might be wrong, but I think that I have passed this shop several times by now." – muttered Daniel.

**… **

During his early days in school, Daniel had turned to magic to win most of his fights (a blind spell here, a fire spell there). But he never used his magic to intentionally harm, anyway. Only to frighten them away - make them cower before his might.

It was during this time that Alan the Astounding had took notice to Daniel and his use of magic. Taking Daniel under his wing, Alan began teaching Daniel far more powerful spells. (Well, Alan believed they were more powerful). Daniel took in every piece of knowledge he could from Alan the Astounding (between times that Alan was actually conscious and/or sober).

Finally, one day, having felt that he had learned all he could from Alan the Astounding (which wasn't much, but Alan was at least famous at the time - for doing kiddy birthday magic shows), Daniel returned home to show off his magic.

While he was there, a member of the Crimson Draco Legion had approached him and told him to use a vial before using his magic and that it would boost his magical powers.

It had done just that, when the time came. When Daniel went to simply ignite the candles in the room - the entire place exploded in a white ball of flame. The incident became known as The Explosion of Gnome Mountain.

Despite leaving a crater in the ground, remarkably no one was hurt. The reasoning for the Crimson Draco Legion telling Daniel to use the vial remains unknown to this day, and perhaps will never be revealed thanks to Daniel's partial amnesia.

Ashamed he had been played a fool, Daniel - now called "Daniel the Destructive" - set out into the world in hopes of making amends, and doing good things, so he could go home and speak of all his heroic deeds.

**…**

Daniel knew that as a Gnome, he wouldn't be much respected in such a big city, so he held his Magical Staff so he would be perceived as a dangerous mark. So far it hadn't worked, since he had already been approached by several thugs.

"Aye! Ye there, little one. Yer gold or yer life?" – said one brute of man.

Daniel looked at the Thug and trembled. How he hated violence. The Thug had a huge sword that gave the impression of cutting through stone as if it was mere cheese.

"I don't have any gold, mister." – stated the Gnome.

And it was the truth. His gold had already been stolen by the first Thug he had encountered.

The Thug showed him a nasty smile and nodded.

"Then… Ye are of no use to me." – growled the Thug.

Daniel could barely maintain his posture. The Thug had just threatened him. What could he do?

"I… I… am a Wizard, you know? Tremble before me…" – squeaked Daniel.

The Thug looked confused for a moment, and started to examine the Gnome.

"What? That toothpick of yers, is a Magical Staff?" – asked the Thug.

The Gnome looked at his Magical Staff and nodded.

"Ah! Don't make me laugh! Ye be no Wizard! If ye were, I would be a toad or some sort of politician by now." – mocked the Thug.

"Yes… I could do that… But wouldn't that be an inconvenience to you?" – asked Daniel.

The Thug laughed. His laugh was cruel and threatening.

"An inconvenience to me? Why be that, lawn ornament?" – mocked the Thug.

"Well… Don't you like being a Human?" – inquired the Gnome, pretending that he didn't notice the insult.

"Aye! Me likes being a Human. But me thinks ye be not telling the truth. Savvy?" – growled the Thug.

Daniel looked at his Magical Staff. He could turn this pathetic creature into a toad, a politician or even a mime. But that wouldn't be very nice.

"Look… I don't have any money on me right now. What if we arrange a meeting for another day? I promise to have some money by then. And you can steal it from me. What do you say?" – offered Daniel.

The Thug looked at the Gnome and spited on the ground.

"That this is yer last day on the world of the living, lad. Now ye die!" – said the Thug.

Daniel looked at the Thug and started to sweat. So that was it? That was how he was supposed to die? Destiny could be a real pain sometimes.

The Thug lifted his enormous sword and started laughing maniacally. Murder was reflected on his dark eyes.

But Destiny decided to intervene at the last second. A wooden sword of some kind was thrown at the head of the Thug and he feel on the ground unconscious.

Daniel looked at the wooden sword and then at the unconscious figure on the ground. He couldn't contain his surprise. Was he protected by the gods themselves? Was he the luckiest Gnome of the realms?

"Oh, my god! I am so sorry!" – said a young man.

Daniel looked at the young man and bowed.

"I presume that this wooden sword is yours?" – asked the Gnome.

The young man nodded.

"I am sorry! It was an accident! I was just training and…" – explained the young man.

"What is the name of my saviour?" – requested Daniel.

"And it slipped from my hands… Saviour?" – inquired the young man.

"Of course. You saved me from this nasty thug. What is your name, brave Hero?" – explained Daniel.

"Grayson… Grayson the Brave." – said Grayson, while trying his best not to laugh hysterically.

Daniel bowed, and Grayson could barely believe in his own eyes. Did the Gnome really think that he was a Hero? By the gods! He was so anxious to tell everyone. Maybe he could even get free drinks from the patrons at the Red Dragon Tavern.

"I have to go now, brave Hero. I wish you the luck of the gods." – said Daniel.

Grayson just stood there grinning like an idiot. He was a Hero. An accidental Hero, but a Hero nonetheless.

"Errr… Bye!" – insisted the Gnome.

But Grayson didn't respond; he just stood there grinning.

"Okay, then… I am leaving now. Bye!" – repeated the Daniel.

Grayson continued to stand there grinning, trapped in his own thoughts of grandeur.

"Strange Hero, that one…" – muttered Daniel.

Unfortunately for Grayson, Daniel was awful at remembering people's names and the identity of Daniel's Hero was eventually forgotten.


	10. The Thug

**Chapter 9; The Thug **

What the hell had happened? The Thug couldn't remember what had happened. He was about to kill that annoying and talkative Gnome, when something had knocked him out cold.

Who had dared do such a thing?

The Thug was mad with rage. No one would hit him and live to tell the story. He had his reputation as a tough guy to uphold.

He looked around, while rubbing his head. The pain was sharp, it was as if someone had clubbed him hard. Damn! Who had dared to attack him?

All he could see was some kind of loser that kept grinning like an idiot. What? No! It couldn't have been him. That bastard was half his size! That little excuse for a lad couldn't even wrestle a flea.

"Ye…" – said the Thug.

But Grayson just stood there grinning.

"Are ye mocking me, lad?" – yelled the Thug.

That seemed to bring Grayson back to reality. He looked at the now conscious Thug and screamed like a little girl.

"It wasn't me! Honest! It was a powerful giant that happened to pass by! I swear it!" – lied Grayson.

The Thug smiled. It was a nasty smile. Some of the teeth were missing, and the survivors looked sick and yellow.

"A giant, huh? Do ye think me be daft, lad?" – inquired the Thug, while he picked up his huge sword.

"Errr… Is that a trick question?" – asked Grayson.

The Thug growled.

"Then the answer is no." – said Grayson with haste.

"How dare ye mock me, lad? How dare ye mock me? Do ye know who me be?" – shouted the Thug.

Grayson's face went white with fear.

"A huge bear of man that wants to kill me?" – guessed Grayson.

"Aye. That, too. But do ye know me name, lad?" – growled the Thug.

"No…" – stated Grayson.

The Thug just stood there, looking darker and scarier.

"There are some who call me...Tiffany." – answered the Thug.

Grayson looked blank all of the sudden.

"What?" – asked Grayson.

"There are some who call me... Tiffany." – repeated Tiffany.

Grayson had to fight a sudden urge to laugh hysterically. It hadn't been too hard… He only had to look one time at the big sword the Thug was wielding.

"Tiffany?" – said Grayson.

"Aye! Tremble, ye bastard! Because Tiffany will be the death of ye!" – threatened Tiffany.

"Wait a second… Are you a girl?" – inquired Grayson.

Tiffany looked perplexed.

"A girl? Do me look like a girl, lad? Me even have a beard and all!" – growled Tiffany.

"I have seen bearded ladies. That doesn't prove a thing." – explained Grayson.

"What? Ye doubt me word?" – asked Tiffany.

"Well…" – murmured Grayson.

"Why do ye think me be a girl, then?" – demanded Tiffany.

Grayson looked at the Thug and then at the enormous sword. Well… He was going to die anyway, so he might as well mock the Thug.

"Tiffany?" – asked Grayson.

"What about it?" – raged Tiffany.

"Isn't a bit… girly?" – inquired Grayson.

That seemed to take Tiffany out of guard.

"Girly? Are ye stating that me parents, may the gods bless their souls, gave me a girly name?" – growled Tiffany.

"Well… The thought had crossed my mind." – confessed Grayson.

"How dare ye? First ye knock me out cold, and then ye mock me name?" – said Tiffany.

"You must admit that it is… a very peculiar name." – mocked Grayson.

"Peculiar? What's wrong with Tiffany?" – growled Tiffany.

"Again… It is a girly name." – repeated Grayson.

Tiffany started to curse and threaten Grayson.

"Hey! It isn't my fault that your parents gave you a girly name." – stated Grayson.

"What if me mum wanted a girl? That doesn't mean a thing! Tiffany is a very respectful name!" – raged Tiffany.

"Yeah, right… Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy." – mocked Grayson.

A tear crossed Tiffany's face. His eyes were red with anger.

"Ye will die for that insult, lad…" – threatened Tiffany.

The Thug pointed the sword at Grayson's head.

"A very painful and gruesome death…" – growled Tiffany.

Grayson shrugged.

"Hell, it was worth it." – stated Grayson.


	11. Knights of Bloodhunt

**Chapter 10; ****Knights of Bloodhunt **

"But before me kill ye… Me want to know yer name!" – stated Tiffany.

Grayson nodded. It seemed fair.

"My name is…" – said Grayson.

Wait a second! What if this brute of a man didn't kill him? What if he escaped? Who knows? It could happen. It happened to the Gnome, didn't it? Was it a smart move to tell that murderer his true name?

Of course not. That would be stupid. And Peter was the stupid one.

"Me waiting for it, lad… But me won't wait for it too long. Savvy?" – growled Tiffany.

Grayson showed a nervous grin.

"Sure… Sure…" – said Grayson.

"So? What be yer name?" – demanded Tiffany.

Damn! What name should he give to Tiffany? He couldn't remember any names that he could use besides Peter. Could he do that to his best friend? Could he live with that regret? That he had betrayed his best friend and that, should he escape, Tiffany would only have Peter´s name? And that the Thug would probably kill Peter, instead of killing him?

"Say it, ya bastard!" – yelled Tiffany.

Well… He was going to die anyway, so he won't live to regret it. And if he lived… This monster will have the wrong name. But could he do such a horrible backstab to his best friend in order to save his hide?

"My name is… Peter." – lied Grayson.

Hell, yeah!

"Peter?" – repeated Tiffany.

"Peter the Ranger." – said Grayson with a reassuring smile.

"Are ye sure? Me distinctly remembers ye saying to the Gnome that yer name be Grayson or something." – asked Tiffany.

Grayson started to sweat a bit.

"Grayson? I don't know any Grayson. You must have heard it wrong, Tiffany. That was a nasty injure you got, remember? I am sorry, by the way! But I am sure that I know my own name. And Peter the Ranger is my name. Honest!" – assured Grayson.

"Well… I thought that ye said Grayson. Ye sure yer name isn't Grayson?" – inquired Tiffany.

Grayson looked hurt.

"You think that I would lie to you? To you, Tiffany? After all we went through?" – said Grayson.

Tiffany nodded.

"Ye be right, lad. Sorry! Peter the Ranger it is, then." – stated Tiffany.

The Thug pointed his nasty looking sword at Grayson's belly.

"Die, Peter the Ranger!" – raged Tiffany.

Grayson closed his eyes and prayed. He didn't know which god he was praying to, but he nevertheless prayed. You never knew what could happen…

"Halt! Is that a thug I see before me?" – said a Knight in orange armor that happened to pass by.

The Knight in blue armor that was next to him nodded.

"Indeed. And he seems to be disturbing that poor lad. Shall we kick some arse, Gariff?" – asked the Knight in blue armor.

Gariff nodded.

"Indeed, my brother Kabewse." – said Gariff.

**… **

Even at an early age, Gariff and his brother, Kabewse knew they wanted to be knights. Day in and day out, they would sit perched on their patio railing watching the knights train.

However, being born of royalty, both of them knew their parents would never let them join the knighthood, because of the dangers involved. Nor would the knighthood ever take them in, knowing that their king would have their heads if any harm came to his sons.

Kabewse and Gariff found a way around that. Putting on helms, they snuck out of their house one day and applied for the Knighthood. When the Knights asked them to remove their helms, they claimed that they could not, for they were horribly scarred during a battle long ago.

The Knights respected that the two had been so grievously wounded apparently, that they allowed both to join.

**…**

Tiffany looked at the two Knights and laughed.

"Ye ladies in armor think ye can kick me arse? Me arse be like solid metal, ya bastards! Do yer best!" –challenged Tiffany.

The two Knights nodded.

"Nevertheless we are going to kick your arse, Mr. Thug. Prepare yourself!" – said Kabewse.

"For honour and the pleasure of kicking evil's arse!" – yelled Gariff.

"I couldn't have said it better, my brother Gariff." – stated Kabewse.

"Thank you, my brother Kabewse." – said Gariff with a bow.

Grayson and Tiffany were speechless for a moment.

"Are you going to save me today or are you going to stay there and bore us to death?" – asked Grayson.

"Aye! I have other stuff to do besides staying here and see ye ladies kissing each other." – mocked Tiffany.

Kabewse looked at Gariff and nodded.

"By the gods! The weak lad and the evil Thug are right. Where are our manners?" – asked Kabewse.

"Then let's take care of the Thug and save that simpleton." – yelled Gariff.

Grayson showed a confused look.

"Did they just call me a simpleton?" – asked Grayson.

Tiffany nodded.

"Me didn't want to say it to ye, lad… But ye are a bit slow." – answered Tiffany.

"Shut up, Tiffany!" – growled Grayson.


	12. Gariff

**Chapter 11; ****Gariff **

"Me was only stating the obvious, lad." – explained Tiffany.

Grayson sighed. He couldn't help it, but he was beginning to wish that he was already dead.

"Look, Tiffany… I know that you are trying to be nice and all, but couldn't you just shut up and kill the clowns in armor?" – asked Grayson.

Tiffany nodded.

"Aye! Ye be right. Silly me! Me will kill those silly knights… Then me will kill ye!" – yelled Tiffany.

"Err… That last bit could be forgotten." – begged Grayson.

Tiffany looked at Grayson and laughed.

"You wish, lad!" – mocked Tiffany.

The two Knights had stopped praising with each other and were already to face the Thug.

"You will die a painful death, you evil brute!" – threatened Gariff.

Kabewse nodded.

"Indeed you shall die a painful death! Now defend yourself, you stinky brute!" – confirmed Kabewse.

Tiffany looked hurt.

"Hey! Me be evil and all… But me takes a bath every day. Me not stinky, lads!" – said Tiffany.

The two Knights looked at each other and shrugged.

"Terribly sorry, mate." – apologised Kabewse.

The Thug nodded.

"It be all in the past now, lad." – stated Tiffany.

Grayson couldn't believe his eyes. This had to be the worst rescue he had ever seen. Okay! It was the first rescue he had ever seen. But it was a really bad one.

"You have swords! Just slash yourselves down so I can go on with my life. Please!" – shouted Grayson.

The Knights looked at Grayson and nodded.

"You hear the simpleton. Charge!" – yelled Gariff.

"Indeed, my brother Gariff. I hear the simpleton. Charge!" – agreed Kabewse.

"Well spoken, my brother Kabewse!" – stated Gariff.

Tiffany attacked the two Knights with his enormous sword, but the Knights were able to dodge the attack.

"Is that the best ye can do, lads? Ye can't dodge me attacks forever!" – mocked Tiffany.

Before Tiffany could attack again, both the Knights were already on the move. Their attacks were quick and precise. The Thug could barely deflect their attacks.

"Aye! Ye lads be quite good at it! But me know of something ye lads can´t do!" – said Tiffany.

The two Knights looked at each other and then at the Thug.

"We are perfect, evil pawn!" – said Gariff.

Kabewse nodded.

"If you look up the meaning of perfection in a dictionary, our picture will show up there." – stated Kabewse.

"Really?" – asked Gariff.

"Well… No… I was only exaggerating our perfection, my brother Gariff." – explained Kabewse.

"Ah! Good show, then, my brother Kabewse!" – praised Gariff.

"Thank you, my brother Gariff." – said Kabewse.

Tiffany showed then a blank look.

"Oh! Terribly sorry, mate! Do go on." – said Gariff.

The Thug looked at the two Knights and then at their swords.

"I can…" – said Tiffany.

The two Knights nodded.

"You can…" – encouraged Kabewse.

"I can… run really fast." – stated Tiffany.

The two Knights looked at each other.

"Really? So can we." – said Gariff.

"The best, mate! The best!" – yelled Kabewse.

Tiffany sighed.

"But can ye run fast with those heavy armors of yers?" – asked Tiffany.

The two Knights looked at each other and shrugged.

"No…" – admitted Gariff.

"No…" – confirmed Kabewse.

The Thug showed then a nasty smile.

"Me thought so. Bye, lads!" – said Tiffany.

Tiffany started running like there was no tomorrow, and the two Knights just stood there paralysed by the shame.

When the Thug was far enough from the two Knights he paused in order to recover his posture.

Then he looked at Grayson, that just stood there looking confused, and gave him a threatening look.

"Me have not forgotten about ye, Peter the Ranger! Me will return! Me will kill ye! Me shall have me revenge!" – shouted Tiffany.

Then he continued to run like a coward.


	13. Kabewse

**Chapter 12; ****Kabewse**

Grayson sighed. He should have expected the threat. He picked up his wooden sword that had been on the ground and he then looked angrily at the two Knights.

"Why didn't you just kill him? Now he has threatened me! He wants to kill me!" – yelled Grayson.

The two Knights look at each other and shrugged.

"Who cares?" – said Gariff.

"Yeah! That's your problem, simpleton." – agreed Kabewse.

"What? You guys are Knights! You shouldn't say things like that!" – stated Grayson.

"We are on a break." – explained Gariff.

"And anyway, we saved you from the Thug, didn't we?" – said Kabewse.

Grayson admitted that much.

"But he will eventually kill me in a near future." – squeaked Grayson.

The two Knights shrugged.

"Again… Not out problem, lad." – repeated Kabewse.

"Indeed. We are here, in the fair City of Neverending, on a secret mission." – explained Gariff.

"Ah, yes! We are not here to save simpletons." – stated Kabewse.

"Secret mission?" – inquired Grayson.

Both Knights nodded.

"Top secret, really." – said Gariff.

"Terribly top secret." – added Kabewse.

"Indeed. We are here hunting for an evil Necromancer." – explained Gariff.

"But that's a secret." – stated Kabewse.

Grayson scratched his head and looked confused for a moment or two.

"Didn't you just tell me what your secret mission is?" – asked Grayson.

Both Knights shrugged.

"No we didn't." – said Gariff.

"If we did, we would have to kill you." – explained Kabewse.

"Did we tell you what the secret mission is?" – asked Gariff.

Grayson looked at the two Knights and sighed.

"No…" – answered Grayson.

Both Knights nodded.

"Good. So you can not know what our secret mission is. Unless you are a spy." – stated Kabewse.

"And if you are a spy… Then we would have to kill you." – added Gariff.

"Nope! Not a spy! Nope!" – said Grayson.

"That's why I prefer rescuing ladies in distress." – commented Kabewse.

"Indeed. They don't talk too much. They almost don't talk at all, if you get my meaning, simpleton. They just give us a kiss or two… After that, and maybe something more, they go on with their lives." – mocked Gariff.

Both Knights laughed. But Grayson just stood there looking confused.

"What do ladies have that I don't have?" – asked Grayson.

Both Knights stopped laughing suddenly. They looked at each other and then at Grayson.

"Simpleton! I take great disgust at your remark. I assume that you are the village idiot. And that fact alone is what's keeping me from killing you." – threatened Gariff.

"Indeed." – agreed Kabewse.

Grayson looked at the two Knights and at their swords. Then he looked at his wooden sword. Then back at the two Knights.

"I am the village idiot." – stated Grayson.

"Are you sure?" – asked Gariff.

"We wouldn't want to judge you too harshly, simpleton." – added Kabewse.

"Positive, sir." – said Grayson.

Both Knights nodded.

"Very well. Farewell, simpleton!" – stated Gariff.

"Indeed. Farewell, simpleton!" – added Kabewse.

Grayson decided just to nod. He waited until the Knights were long gone, before trying to move.

He sighed. Grayson almost wished that Tiffany had killed him.


	14. The Demon

**Chapter 13; The Demon **

The Imp couldn't contain an evil smile. He was an evil creature; therefore he couldn't contain such things. Evil creatures like to show an evil smile. Oh, and they absolutely adore to give the maniacal laugh. And don't forget that they also like to spoil the evil plot by telling the Hero the evil plan.

Evil creatures were evil, but they were not necessary smart. Not as such. It is usually the opposite. Dumb as a door knob. But the Imp wasn't dumb. No, sir!

The Imp was the exact opposite of dumb. He was smart.

"Master… What if I told you that I have a plan?" – asked the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at his Familiar and shrugged.

"Well… You always come up with the plans. I usually just nod and say good boy and stuff like that." – stated the Necromancer.

The Necromancer on the other hand was the exact opposite of smart. He was dumb. No! Not just dumb. Hat would offend dumb people. He was more than that… He had achieved perfection in that particular area. He was "the" dumbest person alive.

"Shut up! I have a plan!" – yelled the Imp.

"You have said that already, Imp." – said the Necromancer.

The Imp sighed.

"The "shut up" part?" – inquired the Imp.

The Necromancer looked thoughtful.

"Well… You do say that a lot. But, no, not that… The part about the plan." – explained the Necromancer.

"Ah, yes! The plan! It is an evil and diabolical plan! Give the laugh!" – ordered the Imp.

"Why?" – asked the Necromancer.

"I said that the plan was evil and diabolical. You should give the maniacal laugh when you hear such words." – growled the Imp.

"But you say those words every minute or so. I would literally die laughing, if I laugh every time I hear those words." – murmured the Necromancer.

The Imp started yelling curses.

"Don't be such a whining baby! Do it! Now!" – demanded the Imp.

The Necromancer just stood there grinning like an idiot.

"What?" – asked the Imp.

"I don't like to give the maniacal laugh. So I am showing you my evil grin instead." – explained the Necromancer.

The Imp seemed lost in his thoughts. By his empty stare they involved murder and torture.

"Your what?" – inquired the Imp.

"Evil grin. If there is an evil laugh, why can't there be an evil grin?" – asked the Necromancer.

"There are evil grins, you idiot! But that isn't an evil grin! You look like you are going to the bathroom or something!" – raged the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded.

"So that's why I felt my robe warmer." – said the Necromancer.

The Imp looked down and sighed.

"And it is a bit wet, too." – stated the Necromancer.

"I could have chosen a Pale Master as my Master… But no… I chose the idiot!" – growled the Imp.

"Who is this idiot you keep talking about, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp's eyes reflected pure hatred.

"Just… just… shut up!" – squeaked the Imp.

The Necromancer shrugged.

"Hey, I was playing cards with the gang. You were the one that called me here to talk about your evil plan and…" – stated the Necromancer.

The Imp seemed to bright up after hearing that. He had forgotten about the plan.

"Shut up! I remember my plan now…" – yelled the Imp.

The Necromancer decided to shut up. The Imp was starting to drool. When he started to do that, the Necromancer usually find it best to shut up.

"My plan, Master… Is to summon a Demon!" – explained the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded. What else could he do?

"But we won't summon just any Demon… Oh, no! That wouldn't be diabolical! It would be evil. But it wouldn't be evil and diabolical!" – continued the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded again.

"We are going to summon…" – yelled the Imp.

More drool was beginning to appear around the Imp's mouth. The Necromancer did his best not to notice. He was feeling disgusted already because of the smells of the swamp; he didn't need any more incentives for feeling disgusted.

The Necromancer waited several minutes. It had seemed an eternity for him.

"Imp? Did your brain melt or something?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp sighed.

"What do you mean by that, brainless fool?" – demanded the Imp.

"I have waited for several minutes for you to complete the sentence. Who are we summoning, then?" – inquired the Imp.

The Imp spited on the ground.

"I was just creating a dramatic moment, Master." – explained the Imp.

The Necromancer looked around and shrugged.

"But it is just me and you, Imp. The Undead are too busy saying "Brains! Brains! Brains!" and stuff like that. Plus… They could use a bath or two." – whispered the Necromancer.

The Imp growled.

"I know that it is just you and me, you idiot! But as a bad guy, I have to create dramatic moments!" – raged the Imp.

"You have?" – inquired the Necromancer.

The Imp nodded.

"Trust me on this. It is like the maniacal laugh. Evil guys have to create dramatic moments." – stated the Imp.

The Necromancer seemed thoughtful for a moment, the nodded.

"I don't understand why, but I have to agree with you." – said the Necromancer.

"Why?" – demanded the Imp.

"Because I don't want you to hurt me… again." – explained the Necromancer.

The Imp laughed at that statement. Those had been good times, indeed!

"Very well! Where was I?" – inquired the Imp.

"We are going to summon…" – reminded the Necromancer.

"We are going to summon…" – yelled the Imp.

The Necromancer looked expectantly at his Familiar. Sweat started to cross the Wizard's face.

"We are going to summon… the Nameless One!" – concluded the Imp.


	15. The Nameless One

**Chapter 14; The Nameless One **

"We are going to summon who?" – inquired the Necromancer.

The Imp gave a sigh. It was a long and awkward sigh, the kind you use when you know that no matter how hard you try to explain something to the guy next to you, your efforts will be in vain.

"Are you deaf and stupid?" – mocked the Imp.

The Necromancer shrugged.

"I don't know." – confessed the Necromancer.

"You don't know what?" – asked the Imp.

"If I am stupid." – answered the Necromancer.

The Imp was speechless for a moment and then nodded.

"Have you been eating your crayons again?" – demanded the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at his feet as if they were suddenly extremely interesting.

"Maybe…" – volunteered the Necromancer.

The Imp silently cursed the Necromancer's parents.

"Look! I said that we will summon the Nameless One." – explained the Imp.

The Necromancer showed him a clueless look.

"The Nameless One! Don't tell me you never heard of him?" – inquired the Imp.

"Okay!" – stated the Necromancer.

"Okay, what?" – asked the Imp.

"Okay, I won't say I never heard of him." – explained the Necromancer.

The Imp gave a sigh.

"What do they teach you in Magic School these days?" – wondered the Imp.

"What do you mean? They try to teach us how to read and understand magical texts." – answered the Necromancer.

"They don't seem to be doing a great job…" – growled the Imp.

The Necromancer looked hurt.

"I said that they try. Not everyone has my Intelligence and power!" – said the Necromancer.

The Imp shrugged.

"Thank the gods for that! If every Wizard was like you, we Demons would be out of business." – murmured the Imp.

The Necromancer laughed.

"Why is that, my familiar?" – inquired the Imp.

"Because we would prefer to do good deeds, instead of explaining them how to be a proper Villain every ten minutes or so." – grumbled the Imp.

"Now that you mention it…" – stated the Necromancer.

The Imp nodded.

"I should just kill you… I really should…" – raged the Imp.

"You are so funny, Imp!" – say the Necromancer.

"And you are an idiot!" – yelled the Imp.

After this brief conversation and exchange of ideas, the Imp started preparing the ritual that would unlock a mystical portal that would permit him to summon the Nameless One.

"You were wondering who the Nameless One is, right?" – inquired the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded. He was busy eating an apple pie that his mother had given him, after he had left home. He missed his room in the basement, as well as his collection of rocks. It seemed that he had left his home in ages, but he had only been gone for one week.

"The Nameless One is a Demon. Not just any Demon! Oh, no! He is one of the most powerful Demons in all the Hells!" – raged the Imp.

Madness was reflected in the evil creature's eyes. Power! Unlimited power!

"He will build us a Tower of Doom! And he will only ask you for a small payment!" – continued the Imp.

A strange portal was beginning to appear right in front of the Imp. The portal started out as a sort of grey fog, but now some red light was mixed with the grey.

"Small payment?" – asked the Necromancer, with his mouth full of pie.

"Indeed…" – said the Imp.

The evil creature's mouth was full of drool again. The Necromancer decided not to ask anymore questions, since the Imp looked more insane than usual.

"You shall meet him, Master! You shall look into the eyes of one of the cruelest beings on the Universe! Behold the power of Evil!" – shouted the Imp.

The portal was suddenly a black hole, which seemed to devour the light around it.

"Now, Master… Summon him!" – ordered the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at the black hole and shrugged.

"How?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp looked at the black hole and then at his Master. For a second there, he had to control the urge to bite the Necromancer's head off.

"Look! Just yell: I summon you, Nameless One!" – instructed the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at the Imp and nodded, but didn't say anything. He just stood there looking at the black hole.

The Imp started to bite his nails. It had been a simple instruction. Why wasn't the idiot following it?

"Why is he called the Nameless One?" – inquired the Necromancer.

Damn! The Imp had hoped that his Master wouldn't ask him that.

"Errr… The reason for that is…" – murmured the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at him with bright curiosity.

"Well… If you must know, he has a name. But it is a very complicated one! His name is impossible to be said in your pathetic language! Only our demonic language can endure such evil and villainy that is his name!" – explained the Imp.

The Necromancer looked really amazed by such explanation.

"Really? Wow!" – said the Necromancer.

The Imp nodded.

"Yeah! It is not like his mother was so drunk all the time that she forgot to give him a name or something!" – whispered the Imp, with a nasty smile.

The Necromancer looked intrigued for a moment and then scratched his chin.

"Really? His mother forgot to name him?" – inquired the Necromancer.

The Imp was taken by surprised by his Master's statement.

"What? I never said that!" – lied the Imp.

"Yes you did! You just said that!" – stated the Necromancer.

"No I didn't." – said the Imp.

"Yes you did!" – repeated the Necromancer.

"When?" – asked the Imp.

"You just whispered it!" – explained the Necromancer.

The Imp's face was full of sweat. If the Nameless One ever found out that he had told a Human his darkest of secrets, the Imp would surely be tortured for eternity. Or even worse… Become the Nameless One's accountant.

"Look… If I whispered it, then you shouldn't have heard it. When people whisper something, it is because they don't want everyone and their grandmother to hear it. Right?" – demanded the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded in agreement.

"What I said wasn't supposed to be heard by you. So if it wasn't supposed to be heard by you and I whispered it, then you can't have heard it." – explained the Imp.

The Necromancer looked surprised by the Imp's logic.

"It makes sense, I will give you that…" – said the Necromancer.

The Imp sighed.

"So did you hear what I whispered?" – demanded the Imp.

"What? The part you said that the Nameless One didn't have a name because his mother was always drunk and she forgot to name him?" – inquired the Necromancer.

The Imp nodded.

"Nope! You whispered, therefore it is impossible for me to have heard what you said." – explained the Imp.

"Good! Summon him then!" – ordered the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at the portal. The black hole was darker than before, if that was even possible.

"I summon you, Nameless One!" – yelled the Necromancer.

The Wizard closed his eyes, and the Imp looked impatiently at the portal.

But nothing happened.

"What did I do wrong, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp simply shrugged.

"I don't know… But whatever it was, I bet it was your fault!" – raged the Imp.

**"I really doubt that…"**

The Necromancer and the Imp looked at each other and then behind them. A huge Demon, with a fearsome face and sharp claws, that wasn't supposed to be there, was in fact, against all odds, standing right behind them.

"Nameless One!" – squeaked the Imp.

The Necromancer screamed like a little girl.

The huge Demon scratched his backside and then burped. It was a very smelly and evil kind of burp.

"How long have you been there?" – inquired the Imp.

The Nameless One looked at the small creature as if he was a mere dust ball.

**"Long enough for you to wish you were never born…"** – threatened the Nameless One.

The Imp gave a panicky look at the Necromancer, as if he was begging his Master to say something. But the Necromancer was still screaming like a little girl, terrified by the presence of such a powerful Demon. The small creature sighed, as if accepting his fate, and then looked at the huge and intimidating Demon.

"Oh, bugger!" – squeaked the Imp.


	16. Adam

**Chapter 15; Adam**

Uncle gave a sneaky look at the drunken Halfling. He couldn't contain a greedy grin. The so called "Alan the Astounding" had already drunk ten ales and he was still asking for more.

Uncle nodded. If the Halfling kept drinking like that, he would make a nice profit. A profit that he didn't have to share with his nephew, since Peter was too busy cleaning the tavern to notice this gold mine.

Suddenly two men entered the tavern. Uncle looked suspiciously at them and scratched his bald head. He had never seen these two before. Damn tourists!

But on the other hand… Tourists meant easy money, since they didn't know the price of ale in the City of Neverending.

Sure he would be stealing them some money… But they were tourists! They deserved it! In fact he would be doing them a favour! Gold coins can be very heavy!

Uncle gave the two strangers a short bow and told them to sit near the bar.

The two men looked at each other and shrugged.

"Hello, boys! New to our fair City of Neverending?" – asked Uncle.

The two strangers nodded as they sited down near the bar.

"Indeed, Barkeeper. My name is Tawmis and my companion is named Adam." – said one of the men.

Tawmis showed Uncle a smile, and Uncle nodded. Damn tourists!

"Greetings, then!" – said Uncle.

The other man, Adam, just stood there looking at Tawmis. There was something in his look, though… It was as if Adam wanted to hurt Tawmis very badly.

"My name is Uncle." – stated the Barkeeper.

"Wow! Funny name! Isn't it a funny name, Adam?" – mocked Tawmis.

Adam sighed.

"Tawmis, you don't make fun of people's name when they are standing right in front of you." – said Adam.

Uncle nodded in approval. Damn tourists!

"You wait until they are gone… Then you make fun of their name!" – concluded Adam.

The Barkeeper looked at Adam and grinned uneasily. How he wanted to club that one in the head.

"Barkeeper! The usual, please!" – asked Tawmis.

Uncle rolled his eyes.

"And what would that be… stranger?" – inquired Uncle.

Adam looked at Tawmis and whispered "I hate you so much!".

"Look, Barkeeper… Just brings us two mugs of your finest ale." – ordered Adam.

"By finest, I presume you mean the most expensive one, right?" – asked Uncle.

Adam looked at Tawmis and then shrugged.

"No. I mean the finest. I don't want to drink any fancy stuff with a foreign name." – explained Adam.

The Barkeeper looked offended.

"What do you mean by that? That my expensive ale isn't the finest?" – demanded Uncle.

Tawmis showed the Barkeeper a diplomatic smile.

"Of course not! Were you, Adam?" – inquired Tawmis.

"Hell, yeah!" – yelled Adam.

Uncle mumbled an insult or two, and then he picked up two bottles of ale.

"You have insulted my honour. I will prove that you are wrong!" – stated Uncle.

Adam shrugged.

"I have here two different types of ale. One is cheap, the other expensive. I will prove to you that there is a difference between the ales. And if I am right I demand an apology!" - continued Uncle.

"What? How will you prove that?" – asked Tawmis.

"I will drink one mug of each, but with a bandage. But even blindfolded, I will be able to distinguish between both ales!" – explained Uncle.

Adam just stood there laughing, while Tawmis listened very careful to Uncle's words.

"Okay! I get it! But we are the ones that fill the mugs, so you don't know which is which." – demanded Adam.

Uncle nodded in agreement. It seemed fair. Damn tourists!

"But I demand an apology if I win." – stated the Barkeeper.

"You have Tawmis´s word." – said Adam.

"Yeah, you have… Hey!" – shouted Tawmis.

"But what do we get? If you lose?" – demanded Adam.

"I won't." – growled Uncle.

"Forgive me if I don't have faith in you. What will we get?" – asked Adam.

Uncle looked at the two bottles of ale that he was holding.

"You will get these two bottles of ale for free." – answered Uncle.

Tawmis nodded to Adam. Free ale seemed like a nice offer.

"We accept." – said Adam.

Uncle looked at the two men and sighed. He then turned around and started to blindfold himself.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" – asked Tawmis.

Uncle just shrugged.

"How should I know? I have a damn bandage!" – yelled Uncle.

"Okay! I wasn't even showing any fingers… Just wanted to see if you were following the rules." – explained Tawmis.

Uncle groaned. His patience was starting to wear thin.

Adam picked one of the bottles. It was the expensive ale. He filled up two mugs that Uncle had given him, with it. Then he picked up the cheap ale and drank it from the bottle, so that when the Barkeeper took out the bandage he would see the two bottles of ale almost emptied.

So both mugs were full with the expensive ale, therefore both had the same quality.

Uncle looked angry for a second.

"I heard you drinking from the bottle, boy! If you do that again, I will be forced to call the City Watch!" – raged Uncle.

Adam looked at Uncle and showed him a grin, which the Barkeeper couldn't see because he was blindfolded.

"Calm yourself down, Barkeeper. I was just trying one of your ales. Just go ahead and prove us wrong." – stated Adam.

Uncle nodded and picked up one of the mugs. He drank it all in one sip.

"This one had to be the expensive ale. The quality there was above average. It was almost divine!" – said Uncle.

Tawmis looked at Adam that stood there looking bored.

Uncle then drank the other mug of ale. He showed the two men a grin.

"Ah! And this one is the cheap ale." – stated Uncle.

"Are you sure?" – asked Tawmis.

The Barkeeper nodded. Damn tourists!

"Of course! It didn't have the same the quality. Completely different, I assure you. The expensive one is quite great! No, this one was the cheap ale. I am sure of that!" – explained Uncle.

Adam looked at Tawmis with an amused smile.

"You have got us, Barkeeper! You have proved us wrong! Tawmis… Apologize to him." – demanded Adam.

Tawmis looked at Adam and then at the blindfolded Barkeeper.

"Sorry…" – mumbled Tawmis, with a joyful smile.


	17. Tawmis

**Chapter 16; ****Tawmis **

Uncle nodded and took out the bandage.

"I told you that my expensive ale was the finest. Ah!" – shouted Uncle.

Tawmis applauded Uncle.

"I always believed in you, Barkeeper!" – stated Tawmis.

"I bet it was just luck…" – mumbled Adam.

Tawmis slapped Adam on the back.

"You are just a sour loser, man!" – mocked Tawmis.

"Shut the hell up, Tawmis!" – growled Adam.

Uncle couldn't contain an amused smile. He had showed these two tourists a thing or two. Damn tourists!

"So? Want anything to drink… losers?" – asked Uncle.

Adam sighed and looked at his friend.

"Well… I could use a drink. What about you, Tawmis?" – inquired Adam.

Tawmis nodded in agreement.

"Sure! And you can fill our mugs with your finest of ales." – said Tawmis.

Uncle looked uncertain for a moment.

"Which is?" – demanded Uncle.

"Errr… The expensive one…" – volunteered Tawmis.

Uncle nodded. These two had learnt their lesson. True, both ales were of the same quality. But these damn tourists didn't have the intelligence to know this. He would charge them more for the ale, stating that it was better.

It was like stealing candy from a dead man. Unless the dead man was an Undead… Stealing candy from one of those buggers was extremely difficult, since the Undead seemed to like candy. Something about rotten teeth…

"Good! Here you go!" – offered Uncle.

The Barkeeper gave them two mugs of ale. Both men drank the ale as if it was mere water.

"You are right, Barkeeper! The best ale I have ever drunk!" – confessed Tawmis.

Adam sighed and observed his emptied mug.

"Well… His opinion doesn't count… He usually drinks milk…" – mocked Adam.

Uncle laughed at this comment, and so did Adam.

"So? I like drinking milk." – stated Tawmis.

Adam shrugged.

"I hate it! Drinking milk is for little kittens!" – said Adam.

"Indeed! Ale is for grown up men, boy!" – commented Uncle.

"Big hairy men!" – yelled Adam.

Uncle nodded in agreement.

"Manly men!" – shouted Uncle.

Tawmis showed the Barkeeper a sly grin.

"Then both of you should definitely stay out of the alcoholic drinks." – remarked Tawmis.

Uncle and Adam stopped laughing and looked at each other.

"So, when you get up in the morning… do you try to piss people off?" – demanded Adam.

Tawmis winked at his friend.

"My purpose in life is to make you feel miserable." – explained Tawmis.

Adam showed him a bright smile.

"That would explain a lot, you know?" – said Adam.

Uncle was still in shock because of Tawmis´s insult. Damn tourists!

"How much money do we owe you, Barkeeper?" – inquired Adam.

Money! Uncle seemed to suddenly forget the insult, and was ready to receive his payment. The word money seemed to have a miraculous healing power for Uncle.

"That will be… four gold coins…" – whispered Uncle.

Some sweat was beginning to appear on Uncle's bald head. How he loved this moment! The moment he would receive his payment! The moment he would trick two damn tourist into giving him more money! Oh, and don't forget about the tip!

"Seems fair! It was good ale." – commented Tawmis.

"The best, boys… The finest ale in the City of Neverending!" – lied Uncle.

Adam looked at Tawmis and whispered something to his friend. The Barkeeper didn't understood what the damn tourist had said. What were these two planning?

"Okay! Since you were such a good friend, Barkeeper, we will let you choose." – said Tawmis.

Adam nodded in agreement.

"Indeed." – agreed Adam.

Uncle looked confused. What the hell?

"Choose what?" – mumbled Uncle.

"Ha, ha, ha! He is such a kidder! Isn't he, Adam?" – inquired Tawmis.

"He sure is, Tawmis. He sure is." – mocked Adam.

Uncle looked even more confused, if that was humanly possible, after that statement.

"I am?" – murmured Uncle.

"You are going to choose which one of us is going to pay the bill." – explained Tawmis.

Adam showed the Barkeeper a mocking grin.

"I am?" – repeated Uncle.

"Isn't he so funny?" – asked Tawmis.

"Like a parrot." – offered Adam.

Uncle gave Adam a mean look. Not just a mean look. No, that look was beyond mean. It was pure hatred.

"Okay! I will choose one of you to pay the bill." – accepted Uncle.

Tawmis nodded in agreement.

"That's great!" – exclaimed Tawmis.

Adam sighed.

Uncle looked at the two men and started thinking who should he choose. The dumb or the dumber?

"Oh! I know it is hard. Sorry, Barkeeper! We should make it easy for you!" – stated Tawmis.

Uncle looked annoyed. What the hell did he mean by that?

"I agree with you, Tawmis. This poor man isn't used to thinking." – agreed Adam.

"I am not used to what?" – demanded Uncle.

Tawmis gestured the Barkeeper to calm himself down.

"My friend merely jests!" – explained Tawmis.

Uncle gave a menacing look at the two men.

"How can you make my choice easier?" – inquired Uncle.

Tawmis showed him an innocent smile, which was everything except innocent.

"Choose the one that you think is the cutest." – stated Tawmis.

Uncle almost had a heart attack after hearing that.

"Choose the what?" – squeaked Uncle.

"I told you he wasn't used to thinking." – mocked Adam.

Uncle didn't even hear the insult. His mind was completely broken by Tawmis´s statement. What did he mean by the cutest?

"When you say the cutest, you mean…" – mumbled Uncle.

"The cutest." – repeated Tawmis.

"Don't worry, man! Just choose which one of us is the cutest. Then the cutest one will pay you." – assured Adam.

Tawmis nodded in agreement.

"Just say a name! Or if you prefer, just point at one of us. The cutest one will pay, I assure you." – said Tawmis.

Uncle wanted to puke. He really did!

"I know what you are thinking. It isn't even a challenge, right? I am the cutest!" - yelled Adam.

Tawmis looked annoyed by his friend's statement.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" – demanded Tawmis.

Adam shrugged.

"Sorry, Tawmis! I know the truth is hard to hear, but…" – said Adam.

"Well, my girlfriends always told me I was cute and fluffy!" – commented Tawmis.

"They were just saying that out of pity…" – mocked Adam.

"You are just jealous!" – replied Tawmis.

"Yeah, right!" – laughed Adam.

Uncle looked angrily at both men. He wanted to commit murder.

Then he looked straight at Tawmis.

"I hate you…" – growled Uncle.

Tawmis showed him a joyful smile.

"Join the club!" – mocked Adam.

Both friends laughed loudly.

"What will it be then? Who is the cutest?" – demanded Adam.

"Me or Mr. "Not cute at all"?" – asked Tawmis.

"Really mature, Tawmis…" – mumbled Adam.

Uncle was speechless. He was seriously considering committing suicide. Words were failing him… They had never failed him!

"Snap out of it, Uncle! Money! Think of the money! They are tricking you! Just think of the money! Just choose one of them! Damn tourists! Just one of them! Choose one! Don't think who is the cutest… Don't! Just choose one of them and say that he is the cutest!" – mumbled Uncle.

Sweat was crossing Uncle's face. He was also beginning to tremble a bit.

"…" – whispered Uncle.

Both friends looked at each other confused.

"What was that?" – asked Tawmis.

"The drinks… are on the house…" – squeaked Uncle.

Tawmis and Adam nodded at each other.

"It always works…" – whispered Tawmis.


	18. That Kicks Rocks!

**Chapter 17; ****That Kicks Rocks!**

Uncle was angry. Well… He was always angry, really. But he was angrier than usual. These two tourists were making him mad! Mad! How he hated them! Damn tourists!

"Will that be all?" – raged Uncle.

The look he gave the two men was threatening and bloodthirsty.

"No." – said Tawmis.

Uncle sighed. Those damn fools didn't even recognise his famous threatening and bloodthirsty look. It was one of Uncle's specialties. Every sane and rational person would have fled the tavern in deep terror. But not these two… Damn tourists!

"No?" – demanded Uncle.

One of the Barkeeper's eyes began to twitch. Nope? What did they mean by no?

"He is doing that parrot thing again…" – mumbled Adam.

Tawmis winked at Adam, and asked him to shut up. Adam shrugged and decided to be quiet… for the moment.

"Listen, Barkeeper… I feel honoured by your generosity. I really do! And my conscience won't let me leave you empty handed." – explained Tawmis.

Uncle's face seemed to bright up. Could it be that his luck was changing for the better?

"You… You… You are going to pay me?" – inquired Uncle.

Tawmis nodded.

"In a way…" – added Tawmis.

Uncle seemed a bit confused by that last statement.

"In a way?" – growled Uncle.

"Well… I was thinking of giving you some wise advices or something." – explained Tawmis.

Uncle's eye twitch cam back with a vengeance. Damn tourists!

"Advices? From you?" – yelled Uncle.

Tawmis nodded, confirming Uncle's statement.

"They don't call me "Tawmis the Wise" for nothing." – remarked Tawmis.

Adam looked at his friend and started laughing hysterically.

"Tawmis the Wise?" – asked Adam.

Tawmis looked hurt.

"So?" – asked Tawmis.

Adam was still laughing like a maniac.

"Tawmis… Just one question… Who are they?" – asked Adam.

"What do you mean?" – asked Tawmis.

"The ones that call you "Tawmis the Wise"?" – said Adam.

Tawmis looked shy for a second or two.

"Well… You know… They…" – squeaked Tawmis.

Adam's laugh was louder than ever. Uncle just wanted to club him to death. Slowly… Very slowly… And painfully… Yes…

"You are just jealous because I am the Hero." – stated Tawmis.

Adam looked surprised after that comeback.

"Well… You… I…" – mumbled Adam.

Uncle looked at Adam and then at Tawmis.

"Wait… That guy is the Hero?" – demanded Uncle.

Adam nodded painfully. He hated to admit it… Oh, how he hated to admit it…

"But… If he is the Hero… Then who the hell are you?" – inquired Uncle.

"The Sidekick…" – whispered Adam.

Now it was Uncle's turn to laugh hysterically; only his laughter was a bit much louder and hysterical than Adam's.

"You are the Sidekick?" – asked Uncle, while rubbing the tears from his eyes.

"So? Do you know why I am the Sidekick?" – questioned Adam.

Uncle shrugged.

"Less taxes by the end of the year." – explained Adam.

"What?" – shouted Uncle.

"You hear me! Heroes have to pay much more taxes than the Sidekicks." – stated Adam.

Uncle showed Tawmis a look that seemed to say "Is this guy for real?".

"Well… It is true…" – mumbled Tawmis.

"Hell, yeah!" – yelled Adam.

Uncle looked paranoid.

"Taxes? What taxes?" – inquired Uncle.

"You know… Legal stuff and all that… I usually let my Lawyer take care of that." – explained Tawmis.

Adam nodded in agreement.

"Nice guy… For a soulless Undead with a fondness for brains." – added Adam.

Uncle looked deeply tired and confused. His eye twitch was even worse than before. Damn tourists!

"Your Lawyer is an Undead?" – demanded Uncle.

"Sure! I thought all Lawyers were Undead." – stated Tawmis.

"No, you idiot! Some of them are heartless Demons or cruel forgotten deities. Every one knows that! You have confused the poor guy!" – corrected Adam.

Tawmis´s face seemed to bright up.

"Ah! You are right! Silly me! Sorry, Barkeeper!" – said Tawmis.

Uncle didn't hear the apology. He had an epic headache that was thankfully distracting him from the madness. Damn tourists!

"Look… Just give me your damn advice… Please!" – begged Uncle.

Tawmis showed the Barkeeper a smile.

"Okay! What has been troubling you lately?" – inquired Tawmis.

"Besides you two?" – growled Uncle.

Both men nodded. The Barkeeper looked at his nephew that was cleaning the pavement in front of the tavern.

"Okay! I have some sort of problem… It is about my nephew… Peter…" – whispered Uncle.

"Is he here?" – asked Tawmis.

Uncle pointed at the young lad that was cleaning the pavement.

"He is your nephew?" – inquired Tawmis.

The Barkeeper nodded.

"I thought he was your slave." – explained Tawmis.

"That, too." – added Uncle.

"If he is way out there, why the hell are we whispering?" – demanded Adam.

Uncle and Tawmis looked at each other and shrugged.

"Well… I don't know… I fear that he might accidentally listen to us…" – stated Uncle.

"What? He is outside! He is way outside! We are in here! How can he listen to us?" – mocked Adam.

Uncle looked at the two men with a paranoid look.

"Half-Elf…" – whispered Uncle.

The two men nodded in recognition.

"Damn pointy ears!" – mumbled Adam.

"Yeah! They can hear really well!" – agreed Tawmis.

"Right!" – said Uncle.

"What is your problem then?" – whispered Adam.

Uncle gave another paranoid look in his nephew direction. After that, he simply sighed.

"He wants to become an adventurer. A Hero! I want to help him… I really do…" – murmured Uncle.

"That's nice!" – stated Tawmis.

"I am tired of his constant whines." – explained Uncle.

"Oh!" – mumbled Tawmis.

"I want him to leave! Can you help me?" – demanded Uncle.

"Well…" – squeaked Tawmis.

Adam showed him a mocking smile.

"What now "Tawmis the Wise"?" – asked Adam.

Tawmis was thoughtful for a moment or two. Actually, he was thoughtful for almost an hour. When Uncle and Adam were about to die of boredom, Tawmis yelled "I got it!".

"You know about the swamp?" – asked Tawmis.

Uncle looked confused.

"The swamp that lies near the City of Neverending?" – inquired Uncle.

"The same! That place looks scary and creepy! The stuff of legends! And it is perfectly harmless!" – continued Tawmis.

"So what?" – demanded Uncle.

"Look! Try to see the big picture! Send your nephew there on some kind of quest! He will think that he is doing a heroic deed or something. It will be the time of his life! He will love it!" – concluded Tawmis.

"Ah! And the swamp is perfectly harmless? You sure?" – inquired Uncle.

"Trust me on this! Completely harmless! It is only a stinky place full of bugs! Nothing to worry about…" – assured Tawmis.

Uncle looked at his nephew and then at the two men. He nodded in agreement.

"Very well! I will think about it." – said Uncle.

Both friends looked at each other and winked. They had done their good deed of the week… If not the good deed of the month.

"We have to go now, Barkeeper." – stated Adam.

"Goodbye!" - said Tawmis.

But Uncle was already hatching a plan to send his nephew on a "heroic" quest, that would lead Peter far way form the tavern and from him. He wasn't paying them any attention.

Tawmis decided to talk with Peter before leaving. You know… To give him some sort of compliment and to wish him good luck. That kind of stuff.

"Are you Peter?" – asked Tawmis.

Peter looked at him and nodded.

"That is my name." – answered Peter.

"And do you want to be an adventurer?" – inquired Tawmis.

"Errrr… Yes." – stated Peter.

"And possibly a Hero?" – added Tawmis.

"Well… Of course." – said Peter.

Okay! Tawmis knew that he had to say something remarkable! Something unique and original! Something that would never be forgotten, that would become part of History. Something that the lad would treasure for life.

Damn! Talk about pressure!

"Sir? You have been silent for several minutes… Are you crazy?" – asked Peter.

Tawmis´s eyes blinked. By the gods, he had found it! He had found something remarkable! The stuff of legends!

"You know what?" – said Tawmis.

Peter looked confused.

"What?" – demanded Peter.

"That kicks rocks!" – remarked Tawmis.

Peter looked even more confused.

"What does?" – squeaked Peter.

"You and your thirst for adventure, lad! I wish you great luck and fortune!" – said Tawmis.

He said goodbye to Peter and started walking towards Adam that had witnessed the all scene.

Peter seemed to think about what that crazy man had said to him. He was thoughtful for several seconds… He kept whispering "That kicks rocks!" over and over again… Then he looked at the sky and showed it a bright and joyful smile.

"That kicks rocks!" – yelled Peter to the world.

Tawmis listened to Peter´s scream and showed Adam a smile. Damn he was good at being a Hero!

"See, my faithful Sidekick? I am a damn good Hero!" – remarked Tawmis.

Adam shrugged.

"That kicks rocks? That doesn't even make sense! It is damn stupid!" – growled Adam.

"It is the stuff of legends!" – corrected Tawmis.

"You are insane, Tawmis!" – mocked Adam.

"Maybe… Or am I a genius?" – asked Tawmis.

"No. Definitely insane." – mumbled Adam.

"Let's go, Adam! I have more heroic deeds to accomplish!" – said Tawmis.

"Wait a second! Didn't we forget to warn the Barkeeper about that strange looking Necromancer that we saw in the swamp?" – asked Adam.

Tawmis looked confused, as if he was lost in his thoughts.

"The one with an Imp and a horde of Undead?" – murmured Tawmis.

Adam nodded.

"The same." – said Adam.

"Errr… Do you think that was important?" – inquired Tawmis.

Adam looked at Peter. The lad was still screaming "That kicks rocks!" and making a fool of himself.

"Probably…" – mumbled Adam.

"Should we warn the Barkeeper of that possible threat?" – asked Tawmis.

Both men looked at each other and then shrugged.

"Nah!" – said both friends.

And then they were gone…

Ready to live thousands of adventures.


	19. The Tower of Doom

**Chapter 18; The Tower of Doom **

The Nameless One was enormous. Not only enormous, but he was also a very scary looking Demon. Now add the pointy teeth and yellow reptilian eyes. His glare reflected pure chaos and evil and his breath was as hot as lava.

**"How dare you share my darkest of secrets with this… this… what the hell is he, by the way?" **– demanded the Nameless One.

The Imp started to tremble like a scared rabbit. Those damn eyes… Those damn yellow reptilian eyes…

"A Wizard, Nameless One." – squeaked the Imp.

The powerful Demon nodded and scratched his huge backside.

**"One of those buggers, huh?"** – growled the Nameless One.

The Imp gulped.

"Yes… Nameless One…" – murmured the Imp.

The frightened Necromancer was still screaming fear and running in circles. The cruel Demon was beginning to consider squishing the damn Wizard… Those girly screams of that bugger were beginning to give him a headache.

**"You haven't answered me, Imp… Don't make ask twice."** – raged the Nameless One.

The small creature nodded in recognition. No one should make the Nameless One ask the same question twice… unless they were tired of breathing.

"I didn't share…" – mumbled the Imp.

The Nameless One stumped one of his huge feet on the ground, causing an intimidating earthquake.

The Imp almost fainted. Which was way more heroic than the Necromancer's reaction. His Master cried "We are all going to die!" before fainting. The worse part wasn't the fainting… it was the place where he decided to faint. Let's just say that it was a very soft and stinky place.

"What I meant to say was… Yes, I did share your darkest of secrets…" – corrected the Imp.

**"You told him my darkest of secrets, you damn bastard!" **– growled the Nameless One.

The Imp decided to hide behind a small rock.

**"Plus you called my mother a drunkard! My sweet old mother!"** – yelled the Nameless One.

"Well… Wasn't she?" – asked the Imp.

The Nameless One looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded in agreement. Some tears began to cross the huge Demon's face.

**"Maybe… But that doesn't give you the right to call my sweet old mother names!"** – cried the powerful Demon.

The Imp looked confused. Was the Nameless One really crying?

**"Do you think that it was easy for a small Demon to grow up without a name? I was always bullied by the bigger Demons… Even my own father made fun of me!"** – whined the Nameless One.

The Imp sighed.

"Look… Nameless One…" – stated the Imp.

**"And now I find out that one of my minions is mocking me and telling my dark secrets to a damn mortal!"** – growled the Nameless One.

"Well…" – squeaked the Imp.

**"What have you got to say in your defence?"** – raged the powerful Demon.

"Sorry?" – volunteered the Imp.

**"Sorry? You mock me, the Nameless One! You tell this damn mortal my darkest of secrets! You made me cry! Me, the Nameless One! And the only thing I get for this outrage is a simple apology?"** – yelled the Nameless One.

The Imp looked at his tiny claws and then at the huge fangs of the enormous Demon.

"I am so dead…" – whispered the Imp.

The cruel and powerful Demon growled in fury and yelled like a wild banshee.

**"Oh… Do you think that a mere apology will suffice?"** – mocked the Nameless One.

"Errr… Yes?" – squeaked the Imp.

**"Oh? Really? Okay, then."** – stated the Nameless One.

"What?" – asked the Imp.

**"Hey, you apologised! That means a lot to me, man!"** – explained the fearsome Demon.

The Imp looked perplexed.

"You aren't going to crush me to tiny bits?" – inquired the Imp.

**"Of course not! You apologised, mate! So why did you summoned me?"** – demanded the Nameless One.

The Imp showed the enormous Demon an evil grin. No! Not just an evil grin. It was the most evil of all grins. He had been practicing it for years.

"My Master wishes to ask something from you, Nameless One." – informed the Imp.

The cruel Demon nodded in recognition. How he loved this sort of business.

**"Does he know about the payment?" **– asked the Nameless One.

"Payment?" – murmured the Imp.

**"The sacrifice."** – reminded the Nameless One.

"That? Of course!" – lied the Imp.

**"Then wake up that damn mortal! I will grant him his wish!" **– stated the Nameless One.

The Imp went over his Master and started slapping him on the face until he woke up. The Necromancer's eyes blinked several times, while he was trying to figure out what the hell had happened to him.

"What is it, my Familiar?" – inquired the Necromancer.

His face was completely dirty… Not to mention stinky… How he hated the swamp!

"Shut up, idiot!" – ordered the Imp.

His Master's stupidity wasn't going to ruin his plan. Not now! Not when his evil and diabolical plan was about to be set in motion.

"Is… Is… that awful creature still here?" – inquired the Necromancer.

His face was full of fear. Oh! And it was also completely dirty and stinky. But if you looked with attention you could also note his fear.

**"Hey! I heard that!" **– growled the Nameless One.

"Damn… Say that you are sorry!" – ordered the Imp.

"What? Why?" – asked the Necromancer while he was cleaning himself up.

**"My mother always told me that I was the prettiest Demon on Hell!" **– raged the Nameless One.

Damn! How the Imp hated Demons with physiological issues…

"Just said it… Or I will bite you!" – threatened the Imp.

The Wizard shrugged. He was beginning to think that his Familiar was too bossy.

"Sorry." – mumbled the Necromancer.

**"Okay! I forgive you." **– said the Nameless One.

"Are we done here? Is everyone happy? Good! Master… Ask him your wish" – growled the Imp.

"Oh? Really?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp nodded. First the Tower of Doom… then the Universe!

The Wizard seemed thoughtful for several seconds. But the Imp didn't care… He knew that his Master was as dumb as a rock.

"I want a pony!" – stated the Necromancer

Perhaps even dumber…


	20. The Contract

**Chapter 19; The Contract **

**"You summoned me… A powerful and cruel Demon… The Nameless One… To ask for a pony?"** – inquired the Nameless One.

"No, no, no!" – yelled the Imp.

The Necromancer looked confused at his Familiar.

"But I want a pony…" – begged the Necromancer.

"Shut up, you idiot!" – demanded the Imp.

"But…" – squeaked the Necromancer.

"If you speak again, I will turn you into ashes!" – threatened the Imp.

The Necromancer decided to shut up. He didn't like the idea of being turned into ashes. It seemed like a painful idea.

"Now… Ask for a Tower of Doom." – ordered the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded, but said nothing. The small evil creature sighed.

"Why won't you speak?" – demanded the Imp.

The Necromancer pointed at the Imp and then at his mouth.

"Oh… You can speak now…" – explained the Imp.

"A Tower of Doom? Why would I want a Tower of Doom?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Because you are a damn Villain! Read the damn books I gave you! Idiot!" – raged the Imp.

"Okay! Sorry! I will ask for that Tower thingy!" – offered the Necromancer.

" Tower of Doom!" – corrected the Imp.

"That, too!" – added the Necromancer.

The Imp started muttering curses at the Necromancer's parents. His mouth was full of drool again. That meant that the Imp was about to lose his patience…

"Just… Just… Just do it, already!" – begged the Imp.

His Master nodded in agreement.

"Demon…" – stated the Necromancer.

**"Nameless One." **– said the intimidating Demon.

"What?" – asked the Necromancer.

**"My name is Nameless One." **– explained the Nameless One.

"Nameless One… I want to ask you for something!" – corrected the Necromancer.

**"What is the magic word?" **– growled the Nameless One.

"Magic Word? What magic word? Abracadabra?" – inquired the Necromancer.

**"Errr… No… The magic word is "Please"!**" – explained the Nameless One.

"I never heard of that one." – said the Necromancer.

The huge Demon looked suddenly very angry. He couldn't stand impolite Villains.

**"I hate you so much…"** – muttered the Nameless One.

The Imp was beginning to panic. Why shouldn't he? That idiot was ruining everything! Everything!

"Just say the magic words, idiot!" – demanded the Imp.

"I want a Tower of Doom… please?" – squeaked the Necromancer.

The cruel Demon looked surprise.

**"What?" **– asked the Nameless One.

The Necromancer shrugged.

"Yeah, I know… The pony was a much better idea. But Imp says that I should have one of those." – explained the Necromancer.

**"But… But… You are a Wizard! You can create a Tower of Doom with ease! Just manipulate the magical energies of the realms or something!" **– volunteered the Nameless One.

"Sorry! I am a Necromancer! I can't use that kind of Magic." – stated the Necromancer.

The enormous Demon looked annoyed. This shouldn't be happening to him…

**"Bugger!" **– growled the Nameless One.

"I know." – muttered the Necromancer.

**"But… Are you sure that you want to lose your soul over a simple Tower of Doom?" **– asked the Nameless One.

The Necromancer showed him a pathetic smile.

"Lose my soul?" – squeaked the Necromancer.

"Errr…" – mumbled the Imp.

Damn! The Imp had "forgotten" to tell that bit to his Master.

**"You did know that my payment was your soul, right?" **– inquired the Nameless One.

"Yes!" – yelled the Imp.

"I did?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp looked at the powerful Demon and showed him a sneaky smile.

"He is an idiot. I had already told him of the payment." – lied the Imp.

"I don't remember…" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"Shut up, you idiot!" – raged the Imp.

**"Look… I want souls as much as the next Demon. But I can't accept a soul of a guy that only wants a Tower of Doom. What would other Demons say about me?" **– explained the Nameless One.

"What do you mean?" – growled the Imp.

**"People usually ask Demons for money, power or beautiful women. But a Tower of Doom?" **– continued the Nameless One.

"Hey! How would I sell you my soul?" – inquired the Necromancer.

**"You only had to sign this contract." **– added the Nameless One.

A strange and old paper magically appeared in front of the Wizard. The Necromancer picked it up and read it.

"Really? Wow! Can I sign it?" – said the Necromancer.

**"No! Were you even listening to me?"** – demanded the Nameless One.

"Nah! So… Can I sign it?" – asked the Necromancer.

The enormous Demon sighed. His sweet old mother had warned him about these stupid mortals. He should have been a Mime like his older brother.

**"No! Look… I am a reasonable Demon… What if I build your Tower of Doom for free?" **– offered the Nameless One.

"But I want to sell you my soul!" – begged the Necromancer.

**"I can't accept that! Hell is a very exclusive establishment! You have to be really mean and evil in order to enter!" **– growled the Nameless One.

The Wizard looked confused at his Familiar and then at his army of Undead.

"Hey! I am a Villain!" – yelled the Necromancer.

**"You could even be the Mayor of the City of Neverending! I simply don't care!" **– mocked the Nameless One.

Well… This wasn't exactly what the Imp had planed, but who cared? They would still get the Tower of Doom.

"Well… What if he made another wish?" – offered the Imp.

**"What?"** – asked the Nameless One.

"He is a Villain! He is evil! His soul is as good… I mean as evil as the next bad guy!" – explained the Imp.

The Nameless One seemed lost in thoughts for a moment, but then he nodded in agreement.

**"Okay, okay! Pathetic mortal… Do you want money, power or beautiful women?"** – inquired the Nameless One.

The Wizard shrugged.

"What? No." – answered the Necromancer.

The powerful Demon sighed. He already knew what would happen… How he hated these stupid mortals…

**"What do you want then?"** – squeaked the Nameless One.

The Wizard showed the cruel Demon a joyful smile.

"A pony." – stated the Necromancer.

The Nameless One shrugged. He just didn't care anymore.

**"Here you go…"** – said the Nameless One.

The powerful Demon casted a few spells that made a dark and intimidating Tower of Doom appear right in front of the Necromancer. Then, a small and cute pony appeared right next to the surprised Wizard.

"Hurray! A pony! And it is so cute!" – said the Necromancer.

The Imp couldn't believe in his own eyes.

"What? A pony? You are going to sell your soul to a Demon for a pony?" – inquired the Imp.

The Necromancer glared at his Familiar and showed him a snobbish look.

"It is my soul; I can do whatever I want with it." – stated the Necromancer.

The Wizard hugged his new pony. Such love and joy was making the Imp sick.

**"Sign the contract, please." **– demanded the Nameless One.

The Wizard looked suddenly frightened.

"With my blood?" – inquired the Necromancer.

**"Only if don't have ink, pathetic mortal."** – explained the Nameless One.

The Necromancer started searching his pockets.

"Well… I don't…" – squeaked the Necromancer.

**"Damn… What about the crayon that you are eating?" **– offered the Nameless One.

The Necromancer took out a piece of green crayon that he had been chewing.

"I wasn't eating it…" – lied the Necromancer.

**"You have some bits of crayon in your mouth."** – observed the Nameless One.

The Wizard looked ashamed at the chewed crayon.

"Okay! I like eating crayons!" – confessed the Necromancer.

**"Just sign it. Please! I have to torment the poor souls of Hell and that kind of things."** – begged the Nameless One.

"Okay! Here you go!" – said the necromancer, while he signed the contract.

**"Great! Will that be all, then?"** – demanded the Nameless One.

The Necromancer looked at his new Tower of Doom and then at his cute new pony.

"I guess so." – answered the Necromancer.

The powerful and tired Demon sighed.

**"Then I will be off."** – growled then Nameless One.

"See you in Hell, then!" – said the Necromancer.

**"Not if I see you first…"** – mumbled the Nameless One.

The powerful and cruel Demon crossed the portal that the Imp had opened. After that, the portal seemed to simply vanish.

The Imp was still speechless. Had his Master really sold his soul to the Nameless One for a pony? Could someone be that stupid?

"Isn't he a cute pony, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer.

The gods must have a sick sense of humour…


	21. Red Dragon Tavern

**Chapter 20; ****Red Dragon Tavern **

Uncle couldn't help but think that the two fools were right. Sending his nephew on a pointless errand was a brilliant idea! But… If Peter went on an adventure, who would be his slave… errr… helper?

On one hand, Uncle would be free of Peter´s damn fantasies and whines… On the other hand, Uncle would lose a useful slave… errr… helper.

Decisions, decisions, decisions…

"Is this the famous Red Dragon Tavern?" – inquired a Gnome.

Uncle's eyes blinked. A costumer? Damn! Uncle had been so concentrated in his thoughts, that he hadn't notice the Gnome enter his tavern.

"Indeed it is, lad. What can I get you?" – asked Uncle.

The Gnome showed the Barkeeper a smile of relief.

"Nothing, Barkeeper." – answered the Gnome.

Uncle sighed. This couldn't be happening to him… No! More tourists! More mad tourists! Damn tourist!

Would it be too much to ask for a drunkard every now and then?

Well… At least that bastard of a Halfling was saving this day from being unprofitable. The Barkeeper had never witness such an incredible amount of quaffing.

"Why in the hell would someone come into a tavern and order nothing?" – demanded Uncle.

The Gnome showed the Barkeeper a joyful nod.

"Ah! Of course! Introductions! Where are my manners?" – said the Gnome.

Uncle glared at the Gnome and sighed. Damn tourists!

"How the hell should I know?" – raged Uncle.

The Gnome looked suddenly confused.

"Know what, sir?" – inquired the Gnome.

"Where your manners are." – explained the Barkeeper.

The Gnome couldn't contain a mocking smile. Humans…

"Oh? That? Ha! Ha! You have a great sense of humour, Barkeeper!" – jested the Gnome.

The Barkeeper whispered something that the Gnome couldn't hear. Perhaps a prayer to a God of Barkeepers or something.

"My name, Barkeeper, is Daniel. I am also known as Daniel the Destructive." – stated the Gnome.

The Barkeeper shrugged and glared indifferently. Damn tourists!

"My name is Uncle." – said the Barkeeper.

"A pleasure to meet you… Uncle." - said Daniel.

"Before we move on, Daniel… I have to know something…" – explained Uncle.

Daniel was perplexed by the sudden change of subject. He nodded in agreement.

"Are you some kind of Philosopher?" – inquired Uncle.

The Gnome laughed at that comment.

"Nah! I am a Wizard, Barkeeper." – answered Daniel.

"Well… I don't like Philosophers… Especially the ones with bright ideas…" – raged Uncle.

"I am not a Philosopher, Uncle. Philosophers deal with ideas, Wizards deal with Magic. I have yet to come up with a great idea, but I can cast a Fireball before you can count to two. I am not a Philosopher. You have my word!" – explained the Gnome.

The Barkeeper seemed unconvinced. Uncle thought that the line that separated Philosophers from Wizards was very thin.

"Good. If I hear you talking like a mad Philosopher that sees Reason and Infinite Wisdom in a piece of cheese, I will club you to death." – threatened the Barkeeper.

Daniel showed him a reassuring smile, which contrasted with the sweat on his bald head.

"What do you want, then?" – inquired Uncle.

"I am looking for someone." – whispered Daniel.

The Barkeeper nodded in recognition.

"Oh, aren't we all?" – agreed Uncle.

The Gnome's eyes blinked in confusion.

"I don't know… Are we?" – asked Daniel.

Uncle laughed after hearing that question.

"Look, lad, I don't deal with that kind of goods." – explained the Barkeeper.

"What do you mean?" – demanded Daniel.

"If you wish to find yourself some company, you should go to the docks." – advised Uncle.

"That's strange… He said that I should come here." – mumbled the Gnome.

"He?" – yelled Uncle.

Daniel showed the Barkeeper a frightened look.

"Yes… My Master…" – murmured the Gnome.

"What? Oh! Wait! You weren't looking for a lady?" – demanded Uncle.

"No… Should I be?" – questioned Daniel.

"Every man should, lad. Who is your Master, then?" – inquired the Barkeeper.

The Gnome seemed to pause for dramatic purposes.

"Alan the Astounding!" – yelled Daniel the Destructive.

The Barkeeper couldn't believe his own hears. Had the drunkard spoken the truth?

"Say what?" – demanded Uncle.

"What." – said Daniel.

"No… Wait… What did you just say?" – corrected Uncle.

"I said "what"." – reminded Daniel.

"Before that!" – growled Uncle.

"Alan the Astounding." – stated the Gnome.

"Your Master is Alan the Astounding?" – inquired Uncle.

"That is what I said." – mumbled Daniel.

"Halfling?" – asked the Barkeeper.

"The last time I saw him, he was one." – confirmed Daniel.

The Barkeeper felt suddenly very cold and confused. What did the Gnome mean by that?

"Err…" – murmured Uncle.

Daniel seemed to understand why the Barkeeper was confused and gave him a reassuring nod.

"Well… With Wizards, you never know." – explained the Gnome.

"What do you mean?" – questioned Uncle.

"Oh, a wrong ingredient in a potion or a bad spelling of a Spell, and you could end up a Troll or a Politician. Magic can be a very scary and lethal business for the unwary." – whispered Daniel.

Uncle trembled after hearing the word "Politician"… Such a dark and cruel fate… Oh, the horror… The horror…

"Well… Your so called Master is here, alright." – squeaked Uncle.

Daniel showed him a bright face.

"Really?" – asked the Gnome.

"Yes." – confirmed the Barkeeper.

"Where?" – inquired Daniel.

"See that fellow over there?" – demanded Uncle.

The Gnome looked around and shrugged.

"Which one?" – questioned Daniel.

"He is the only client in the tavern besides you. It can't be that hard." – mocked Uncle.

"Oh! You mean that Halfling over there." – asked Daniel.

"Yes." – answered the Barkeeper.

"Oh, my… Has he been drinking?" – inquired the Gnome.

The Barkeeper confirmed this by pointing at the dozens of mugs on the Halfling's table.

"Oh, bugger…" – squeaked Daniel.

Daniel thanked the Barkeeper for his time and went over to his Master's table. Alan seemed quite amused and joyful. He was singing the song about a girl from Galana. Ah, yes! One of his Master's favourite songs.

"I once dated a girl from Galana; the things that she could do with a banana." – sang Alan.

"Master?" – interrupted Daniel.

The Halfling looked at Daniel and started screaming furiously.

"Damn it! My name is Alan the Astounding! Alan the Astounding! Is it so hard for you damn simpletons to memorize such a simple, yet fascinating, name?" – mocked Alan.

Daniel sighed. That's why his Master should drink ale or any other kind of alcoholic beverage. The Halfling became unpredictable and a bit crazy.

"It is I, Master… Daniel." – explained the Gnome.

"Daniel who?" – demanded Alan.

"Daniel the Destructive, Master." – added Daniel.

"Little Danny? Is that really you?" – demanded the drunken Halfling.

"Oh, Master… Drinking ale again, I see?" – mumbled the Gnome.

Alan looked at the mugs on his table and then shrugged.

"No! Of course not!" – answered Alan.

"Master… Your table is full of mugs…" – said Daniel.

"I only drank water…" – assured Alan.

"But your mug is full of ale." – observed the Gnome.

The drunken Halfling inspected the content of the mug he was holding. And against all odds it was indeed full of ale. Damn!

"Impossible!" – mocked Alan.

The Halfling quickly drank the content of the mug. Daniel couldn't hide his surprise.

"See?" – demanded Alan.

"Errr… You just drank it, Master." – stated Daniel.

"Yes! And I guarantee you that it was merely water." – lied the drunken Halfling.

Daniel sighed. What would be the point of arguing with his Master?

"Well… Why did you want to see me, Master?" – inquired Daniel.

Alan shrugged in confusion.

"I… I… can't remember." – confessed the Halfling.

"What?" – yelled Daniel.

"The… water… must have made me forget." – explained Alan.

"Damn… Was it important?" – demanded the Gnome.

"How should I know?" – mocked Alan.

"Oh, right… You have forgotten it." – jested Daniel.

"Wait a second…" – asked Alan.

"What?" – mumbled the Gnome.

"I remember something." – explained the Halfling.

"Well?" – demanded Daniel.

"Something about a vision I had… During one of my meditations…" – murmured Alan.

Wait… Something wasn't right there…

"Since when do you meditate?" – inquired Daniel.

"Shut up, you fool! Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?" – raged Alan.

The Gnome nodded in agreement and apologised.

"First, I saw… A Crimson Dragon…" – continued the drunken Halfling.

"Errr… Tell me, Master… were you drinking… water… when you had those visions?" – asked Daniel.

"Maybe." – lied Alan.

"Do continue." – said the Gnome.

"I also saw… A beautiful woman…" – whispered the Halfling.

"Ah! One of those visions." – mocked Daniel.

"She was a Human… Or maybe a Half-Elf…" – mumbled Alan.

"Master, I…" – said the Gnome.

"Her race is not important! It was her eyes, Daniel… Her dark eyes..." – yelled Alan.

"Well?" – inquired Daniel.

"They reflected pure evil…" – whispered Alan.

The Halfling looked behind him, as if expecting someone to be there. Daniel was beginning to feel paranoid, too.

"She works for someone… A powerful and evil entity…" – growled the Halfling.

"Oh?" – squeaked the Gnome

"I saw terrible things, Daniel… I saw Darkness… I saw Chaos… I saw Destruction… I saw Death… And finally, I saw Emptiness…" – explained Alan.

The Gnome started to tremble nervously. Something wasn't right there… Why was his Master telling him this?

"And do you know who was standing by her side?" – inquired Alan.

"Who? Who was standing by her side?" – asked Daniel.

"It was you… Daniel." – mumbled Alan.


	22. Cleaning the dishes!

**Chapter 21; Cleaning the dishes! **

Daniel couldn't believe in his own ears.

"What do you mean by that?" – squeaked the Gnome.

Alan looked at the emptied mug and wished that it wasn't empty.

"By what?" – asked the Halfling.

Daniel's bald head was full of sweat. He had never been so worried in his entire life.

"You said that I was standing by her side." – reminded Daniel.

The Halfling Wizard scratched his chin, and looked confused.

"Oh? That?" – inquired Alan.

The Gnome nodded in acknowledgment.

"You are standing by her side, Daniel. But I don't know what that means." – explained Alan.

"What do you mean?" – demanded the Gnome.

Alan shrugged as if he was also perplexed by his own statement.

"Well… I saw you standing by her side. And that was all. Who knows what that means?" – continued the Halfling.

Daniel looked at the emptied mugs. How he hated to talk with his Master when he was drunk. He made as much sense as a cow reciting Elven poetry.

"Wait… Are you saying that you just saw me by her side… That's it?" – asked Daniel.

Alan nodded and showed him a tired look.

"Then I could be standing by her side in a bakery or an Inn?" – jested the Gnome.

"Well… It could happen…" – mumbled Alan.

"Okay, but that doesn't mean that I will involve myself with that terrible and evil woman." – added Daniel.

"I agree. But those damn dark eyes… I had to warn you, Daniel. I almost wetted the bed." – whispered Alan.

Daniel could clearly see that his Master was indeed afraid of his dreadful vision. But that didn't mean much… Alan was also afraid of rabbits and tax collectors. Oh… And the pink colour, for some strange reason.

"That frightening, huh?" – murmured the Gnome.

"It was almost as if she didn't care for the lives of others. The perfect assassin, my friend. Those dark and soulless eyes… They promised you nothing but emptiness and death." – growled Alan.

Daniel sighed and looked at the Barkeeper. Uncle was staring curiously at them, while he was cleaning some mugs.

"Wait a second… You were in the bed when you received that vision?" – asked the Gnome.

Alan shrugged as if that even mattered.

"Well… Yeah…" – admitted Alan.

"Were you sleeping?" – demanded Daniel.

"I was meditating." – reminded the Halfling.

Daniel looked suspiciously at his Master and then showed him a mocking smile.

"Do you snore much during your meditations?" – jested the Gnome.

Alan's face went suddenly red. He really looked ashamed for a moment or two, but then he recovered his posture.

"Errr… Possibly…" – admitted the Halfling.

"Ah! That explains a lot!" – mocked Daniel.

Alan knew that his warning was losing some credibility. Maybe he should change the topic of the conversation… Yeah! That would be a great move! What should he and Daniel talk about?

Ah! His Cat Familiar! That was always an interesting topic for conversations.

"Well… Do you remember my Cat?" – inquired the Halfling.

"Your Cat Familiar named Cat?" – asked Daniel.

"That's right. Well… my Cat Familiar hates being near me when I am meditating. I once caught him trying to cast a Silent Spell on me." – said Alan.

Daniel looked really impressed by that story.

"Errr… Your Cat can cast Magic?" – murmured the Gnome.

"No. Of course not! That would be silly! He told that he was too desperate to think about the consequences of his actions. He just wanted to shut me up. So he tried to do it by using one of my scrolls." – explained Alan.

"And… How did the cat tell you this?" – inquired Daniel.

"Oh? Didn't I tell you?" – said Alan.

The Gnome's face reflected only pure confusion. Talking with a drunken Alan was like teaching a rock to sing.

"Tell me what?" – demanded Daniel.

"I taught him how to write." – continued Alan.

Daniel was impressed. He taught a cat how to write? Wow!

"What? Really? That's incredible!" – remarked the Gnome.

"Yes. Wait… That's strange…" – mumbled Alan.

"What is?" – demanded Daniel.

"Since then I have been receiving some anonymous letters that say my feet stink." – said Alan.

"Oh…" – murmured the Gnome.

"Strange, huh?" - asked the Halfling.

"Yes… Very strange… A mystery…" – lied Daniel.

The Gnome looked around, trying to spot the damned Cat. His Master took his Familiar everywhere he went.

"Where is your Cat, Master?" – inquired Daniel.

"Last time I saw him he had stolen my money bag and was running for the hills." – explained Alan.

Both Wizards started laughing hysterically.

"Smart cat." – stated the Gnome.

"The smartest." – agreed the Halfling.

"But… Will he return?" – asked Daniel.

"He will return when he spends all the money. Or when he needs to use the kitty litter. Whichever comes first." – mocked Alan.

Daniel nodded in agreement.

"But anyway… About your vision… It could have been a mere nightmare, Master." – offered the Gnome.

"Maybe." – mumbled Alan.

"Ah!" – stated Daniel.

Suddenly his Master showed him a sneaky smile and winked.

"Perhaps it never happened and I am just messing with your head." – jested Alan.

"Huh?" – demanded a confused Daniel.

"Who knows?" – inquired the Halfling.

"You are kidding, right?" – asked the Gnome.

"Am I?" – mocked Alan.

"I sure hope so." – growled Daniel.

"I am just kidding!" – explained Alan.

"Ah!" – yelled the Gnome.

"Or am I?" – joked the Halfling.

"I am starting to doubt the veracity of your vision, Master." – whispered Daniel.

Alan laughed at his friend's statement.

"I love messing with peoples' heads. You should try it some time." – stated the Halfling.

Daniel sighed… He was too tired to continue this conversation with his Master.

"Yes, Master… Maybe we should be going now?" – offered the Gnome.

The Halfling looked at the emptied mugs and nodded in agreement.

"Okay! Pay the bill, Daniel." – said Alan.

"Pay the bill?" – squeaked the Gnome.

"Yeah! My Cat stole my money, remember?" – reminded Alan.

"But… I don't have any money with me…" – stated Daniel.

"Huh?" – mumbled the Halfling.

"It was stolen by some Thugs." – explained the Gnome.

"Damn it! Why didn't you cast a Fireball or Magic Missile at them?" – demanded Alan.

"But… I hate hurting others…" – reminded Daniel.

"And you call yourself a Wizard? Wizards shouldn't be afraid of hurting other people. Other people should be afraid of hurting Wizards." – mocked Alan.

"What now?" – inquired the Gnome.

"We could burn down the Tavern and run away." – suggested Alan.

"Errr… I would prefer a more diplomatic way. Please, let me handle this." – explained Daniel.

The Gnome looked at the Barkeeper and showed him a bright smile.

"Barkeeper!" – yelled Daniel.

Uncle started walking towards the two Wizards.

"Aye, lad?" – asked Uncle.

"About the bill…" – mumbled the Gnome.

The Barkeeper showed them a greedy smile.

"That will be six gold coins, sir." – said Uncle.

"About that… You see… We… That is me and my Master…" – stated Daniel.

"Yes?" – raged Uncle.

"We don't have any money to pay you." – explained the Gnome.

"You are jesting, right?" – growled the Barkeeper.

"I really wish that I was, Barkeeper… But I am not…" – squeaked Daniel.

Uncle showed them a mean look. If glares could kill people, then this one would be a master assassin.

"You are damn Wizards! Summon a Pixie and ask her for a diamond or something!" – ordered Uncle.

"Err…" – mumbled Daniel.

"Or summon some gold coins from a Dragon's Dungeon!" – demanded the Barkeeper.

"We can't do that…" – said the Gnome.

"I see…" – murmured Uncle.

"You do?" – asked Daniel.

The Gnome showed Alan a smile of relief.

"Then I shall call the City Watch." – threatened Uncle.

Daniel's smile vanished immediately.

"Okay! Time to burn this place down! Alan the Astounding´s style!" – yelled Alan.

"No, wait! Look, mister… Be reasonable! What about some sort of deal?" – offered Daniel.

"Deal?" – growled the Barkeeper.

Uncle was indeed interested in some sort of deal. Anything was better than nothing.

"Is there some way for us to pay our debt without giving you money?" – inquired the Gnome.

"Huh?" – raged Uncle.

"Some sort of quest that you desire accomplished?" – explained Daniel.

Damn tourists! What an useless offer! As if he needed their help.

Wait a minute… Maybe… Just maybe…

"Well… You saw that lad outside right?" - asked Uncle.

Both Wizards nodded in recognition.

"The slave?" – asked Alan.

"No. He is the Barkeeper's nephew." – explained Daniel.

The Halfling looked surprised by this turn of events.

"You are kidding…" – stated Alan.

"No, he is my nephew." – confirmed Uncle.

"He is cleaning the pavement with a toothbrush." – mumbled Alan.

"Life can be cruel to young lads." – jested Uncle.

"Well, it certainly is for that poor bastard." – mocked the Halfling.

"What about him?" – asked Daniel.

"He wants to go on a quest. I am thinking of sending him on one." – explained the Barkeeper.

"Really? That is very thoughtful of you." – said Daniel.

"I want him to go away. I can't stand his whines." – growled Uncle.

"Oh!" – squeaked the Gnome.

"I can see that you and your nephew have a strong bond." – jested Alan.

"But if he goes on an adventure… I will lose my slave… I mean helper." – continued Uncle, while ignoring the Halfling's comments.

"Oh, oh…" – cried Daniel.

The Gnome was starting to understand the Barkeeper's point.

"I could use some fellows like you to help me run this place. Until the bugger returns, of course." – concluded Uncle.

"What if he dies on that quest?" – asked Alan.

"I said until the bugger returns. If he never returns… Then you shall have to stay, won't you?" – mocked Uncle.

"I vote for burning this place down!" – stated Alan.

"Master!" – yelled the Gnome.

"That's it! I am calling the City Watch!" – threatened Uncle.

"Wait! Wait! We accept!" – shouted Daniel.

"You do?" – inquired the Barkeeper.

"We do?" – demanded the Halfling.

"Yes! We have a debt to pay, Master. And we shall pay it. We accept your request, even though it seems quite evil and cruel." – explained Daniel.

Uncle nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a greedy satisfaction.

"Good. I will tell my nephew the good news. Start doing the dishes." – ordered the Barkeeper.

"Do you know who I am? Can your simple mind grasp that awesome fact? I am Alan the Astounding! Alan the Astounding! Do you hear me?" – yelled the Halfling.

"I think that even the deaf heard you." – mumbled the Gnome.

"So Alan Astounding won't clean the dishes." – growled Uncle.

"You can bet your money on that." – stated Alan.

"But, Master… We will be working on a Tavern." – whispered Daniel.

"So?" – demanded The Halfling.

"A Tavern… A place with barrels full of… errr… water…" – continued the Gnome.

Alan was suddenly more interested in the idea.

"So many barrels! More than you can count!" – promised Daniel.

"Working… in… a Tavern?" – murmured Alan.

A tear started to cross the Halfling's face. It was a dream come true.

"Will we stay in the tavern, mister?" – inquired Alan.

"Sure. I can't let you guys wonder off. I will keep you here. I don't trust you. You might try to escape." – raged Uncle.

"But we don't have money for food…" – reminded Daniel.

"And drinks…" – mumbled Alan.

"Grrr… Okay! I get your point… You can stay in here. And if you work well, you can also eat. I need you capable of enduring a busy day. But don't you dare eat like a Giant! Or I will hang you both personally!" – threatened Uncle.

"I promise that we won't." – stated Daniel.

"Yes. We won't eat like as if we were Giants." – agreed the Halfling.

Alan couldn't contain a mocking smile.

"I will, of course, drink like one." – thought the Halfling.

"You give me your word, then?" – demanded Uncle.

"Sure." – promised the Gnome.

"Sucker…" – whispered the Halfling.

"What was that?" – growled Uncle.

"I said "sure"." – lied Alan.

"Very well. But you said that Alan the Astounding doesn't clean dishes." – mocked the Barkeeper.

"I said that?" – asked the Halfling.

"Yes." – confirmed Uncle.

"What I meant to say was that Alan the Astounding doesn't like cleaning dishes." – explained Alan.

"What does Alan the Astounding like, then?" – demanded the Barkeeper.

"Alan the Astounding likes to dry them." – added the Halfling with a joyful smile.


	23. The Quest

**Chapter 22; The Quest **

The Barkeeper couldn't believe his good luck. Not only had he found a way to get rid of his lazy nephew, but he had also found some cheap replacements.

Well… They weren't as cheap as Peter, since now he had two mouths to feed. But those two buggers were Wizards; they added a bit of class and distinction to his Tavern. How many Barkeepers could brag that theyhave Wizards cleaning their dishes?

Peter was still cleaning the pavement in front of the Tavern, as Uncle had instructed him to do. His face was full of sweat and his eyes were tired. But strangely enough, he was smiling. That stupid optimistic smile of his…

"Peter?" – growled Uncle.

The Ranger stopped scrubbing the pavement with the toothbrush and glared at his uncle.

"Hello, Uncle! Need anything else?" – asked Peter.

Uncle looked at the toothbrush, which was all worn out and dirty. Unlike the toothbrush, Peter´s optimism was still shiny and cleaned.

That was one of the things about Peter that depressed Uncle… No matter how much he tried to make his nephew's life a living Hell, Peter would always find something to hold on to. He was always happy no matter what. Uncle suspected that his nephew's damn optimism was a direct result of the fact that he had no brain.

Sure, Peter complained. He was a whiner by nature. He eventually did what he was told, though… usually after some threats and yells. But he was nevertheless a damn optimistic.

The Barkeeper sighed. He knew that deep down, he loved the lad. Peter was as funny as he was a whiner, but in the end he had more qualities than faults. Uncle's life would be really empty without his nephew around. But young birds have to fly away from the nest someday.

"Aye! I need something else." – mumble Uncle.

Peter looked at the toothbrush and threw it away. Then he got up from the pavement and started to straighten himself up.

"What is it then? Do you want another foot massage?" – inquired the Ranger.

And there it was again… That damn smile. Always that damn optimistic smile.

"No, lad! Not right now." – explained the Barkeeper.

Peter looked confused, but he stood patiently waiting for his uncle to continue the conversation. The Ranger could sense that something was wrong, because Uncle wasn't shouting at him and accusing him of being a whining bastard.

"I need you to do something for me." – murmured Uncle.

Peter´s eyes reflected anticipation. Why was his uncle being so secretive about all this? Usually he would bark his orders and go away.

"Errr… Do you want me to take care of the backyard again?" – volunteered Peter.

The Barkeeper seemed to pause as if considering the suggestion. It was a very tempting offer, but Uncle knew that he had to say no. He had to let his slave… errr… nephew go and live his dreams.

"No…" – mumbled Uncle.

Now Peter was sure that something was wrong. Uncle never passed out an opportunity to make him work on the backyard.

He always told Peter, that such work would make him both a better person and a wiser Ranger. Uncle also told his nephew that the answers to Life could be found in the backyard. Strangely enough, Peter couldn't find any of the answers to Life on the backyard… only dirt.

"Well?" – joked the Ranger.

The Barkeeper looked at his nephew with a serious face and nodded. The time had come for the young bird to fly away from the nest.

"I need you to go on an errand." – whispered Uncle.

Peter´s mouth was wide open in shock. An errand?

"What?" – shouted the Ranger.

The Barkeeper gestured his nephew to calm down, which he did.

"What do you mean by errand?" – demanded Peter.

Uncle had already rehearsed the conversation in his mind, so he already knew what he should say to his nephew about the "errand".

"I need you to go to the swamp." – said Uncle.

"The swamp?" – repeated the Ranger.

The Barkeeper nodded, confirming what he had said.

"Yes. I need you to go there." – stated Uncle.

Peter shrugged as if he didn't follow his uncle's logic.

"Why do you need me to go to the swamp?" – squeaked the Ranger.

Uncle showed his nephew a sneaky grin.

"I need you to go there and get my special ingredient." – explained the Barkeeper.

Now Peter was indeed interested in this conversation. Special ingredient?

"Errr… What special ingredient?" – demanded Peter.

"The swamp water, of course." – answered Uncle.

Peter showed Uncle a joyful smile.

"You are kidding, right?" – asked the Ranger.

Uncle looked confused.

"Kidding?" – inquired the Barkeeper.

Peter looked suddenly afraid.

"Special ingredient for what?" – asked the Ranger.

Uncle's grin reminded Peter of a hungry feline that had trapped a mouse.

"My ale, of course." – answered the Barkeeper.

Peter looked shocked for a moment, then sick.

"Ahhhh…" – groaned the Ranger.

"Surprised?" – inquired Uncle.

"Actually… That explains a lot…" - moaned Peter.

Uncle laughed at that comment, and scratched his bald head.

"Do you accept this quest?" - asked Uncle.

Peter´s face was suddenly bright, as if the recent conversation had been completely erased from his memory.

"Quest?"- murmured Peter.

Uncle nodded in agreement.

"The stuff of Heroes, it is." – added the Barkeeper.

"The stuff… of Heroes?" – squeaked Peter.

Uncle's smile was as reassuring as a drunken blind man with a crossbow.

"Sure. Only a Ranger like you has what it takes to venture to the swamp and help a poor old Barkeeper." – continued Uncle.

A bit of drool started to appear around Peter´s lower lips.

"A Ranger like me?" – murmured Peter.

Uncle slapped his nephew in the back, and gave him a small barrel.

"What's this?" – asked the Ranger.

"The barrel you have to fill with swamp water." – explained the Barkeeper.

Peter glared at the barrel and showed his uncle a lazy expression.

"But the barrel is damn heavy…" – whined Peter.

Uncle sighed. He should have expected that. He really should have…

"Look, lad! Think for a minute. If you don't want to carry it, find someone that wants to." – raged the Barkeeper.

"Someone to carry the barrel?" – squeaked Peter.

Bah! Who would be stupid enough to carry a heavy barrel for him?

Ah! He also needed someone capable of fighting monsters and thugs. Adventurers tended to fight lots of enemies during quests.

Suddenly, Peter´s eyes winked as he reached a conclusion.

Grayson!

His best friend! He was a Fighter! He was also kind of dumb, so he would gladly carry the damn heavy barrel for him.

Now he only had to find Grayson and to convince him to join the quest.

"Yeah… That kicks rocks!" – yelled Peter.

Uncle looked around, trying to spot someone kicking rocks.

"What does?" – growled the Barkeeper.

Peter showed his uncle a blank look.

"Does what?" – inquired the Ranger.

"Kick rocks?" – asked Uncle.

"Ah! That? A guy that came out of the Tavern said that to me." – explained Peter.

Uncle grumbled a few curses. Damn tourists and their foreign expressions.

"That doesn't even make sense." – growled the Barkeeper.

"Yes, it does. It means that something or someone is great!" – stated Peter.

"You just made that up!" – shouted Uncle.

Peter looked ashamed and looked at his feet as if they were suddenly very interesting.

"Maybe… But it makes sense, at least to me…" – murmured the Ranger.

Uncle sighed. Damn tourists!

"Well, I expect you to leave today. Farewell, nephew!" – said the Barkeeper.

"But don't you need to find someone to replace me?" – inquired Peter.

"Already did that, lad." – explained Uncle.

Peter put down the small barrel, and showed the Barkeeper an anxious smile.

"What?" – demanded Uncle.

"Shouldn't we start discussing the reward?" - asked the Ranger.


	24. The small heavy barrel

**Chapter 23; The small heavy barrel **

Peter was running away. Oh, he was definitely running away.

He didn't care where he was going to. That would be silly and complicated. The most important thing to remember was from whom he was running away from.

And he was running from his uncle.

Peter silently cursed himself for daring to ask his uncle for a reward. He had never seen his uncle´s eyes so red with anger. And he actually went into the Tavern and picked up his club.

The last thing that the Ranger remembered before running away was picking up his bow that was standing near the door. After that, Peter´s mind was completely blank.

His lungs were hurting like Hell, since he wasn't used to run this fast. But he simply didn't care about the pain anymore. He just wanted to run away from his angered uncle.

He was too young to die!

And to make matters worse, the ranger was carrying with him a small heavy barrel and his faithful bow. That didn't make the running away part any easier.

Peter was beginning to feel really impressed by his current will power. His legs were begging for rest and his hearth was almost exploding because of the adrenaline.

Boy! Fear could indeed give men wings.

But before the Ranger could continue with his self praising, he bumped into someone and fell on the ground.

It had been a nasty fall. Peter´s muscles ached and demanded a break.

"Damn! My head hurts!" – cried the Ranger.

Suddenly Peter remembered that he had bumped into someone. He looked at the fallen figure and tried to see if he was alright.

"Are you alright?" – inquired the ranger, while rubbing his aching head.

The fallen figure squeaked a faint yes and Peter started to help him get up.

Wait a bloody minute!

"Grayson!" – yelled Peter.

Grayson looked at his friend and sighed.

"You almost killed me, Peter… My head hurts… And I think that my spine is broken…" – complained the Fighter.

Peter examined his friend's back and shrugged.

"It seems alright to me." – stated Peter.

Grayson's eyes rolled over, as he was straightening himself up.

"Since when are you a Cleric, Peter?" – mocked the Fighter.

Peter showed his friend a joyful smile and winked.

"As a Ranger, it is within my capabilities to detect serious injuries and cure them." – explained Peter.

Grayson showed the Ranger an incredulous look.

"You never studied medicine…" – pointed out the Fighter.

Peter hesitated a moment and then shrugged.

"So? I bet that most Clerics never picked up a medicine book in their entire life!" – said the Ranger.

The Fighter glared at his friend, and then scratched his back, trying to rub off the pain.

"Bah! Let's change the subject… Please…" – mumbled Grayson.

"Fine by me! Hey! Is that your new sword?" – asked Peter.

Grayson looked at the wooden sword that was standing on the ground. Damn! Peter had spotted it! What now?

"Errr…" – mumbled the Fighter.

If Peter discovered that he, Grayson the Fighter, had bought a wooden sword, he would never hear the end of it.

"Well?" – demanded the Ranger.

He would be mocked by his friend for ever… well… or at least until the end of the week.

"No. Some kid must have lost his wooden sword or something..." – lied Grayson.

"Too bad… It is a very cool looking sword." – stated Peter.

"It is made of wood, Peter." – pointed out Grayson.

Peter looked at the wooden sword and then at his bow, that was standing next to the small barrel.

"So is my bow. What about it?" – inquired the Ranger

"Swords should be made of steel… I think…" – explained the Fighter.

"Well, do you know the kid?" – asked Peter.

"What kid?" – demanded Grayson.

"The owner of the sword?" – remembered the Ranger.

"Oh! That kid? No, I don't think so." – mumbled Grayson.

At that exact same moment, two women passed by the two friends. They seemed to be sharing gossips with each other.

"And then the idiot bought a wooden sword from my husband! Ah! After all that talk about being a great Hero and all, he actually bought a wooden sword!" – said one of the women.

"What an idiot!" – mocked the other woman.

The two women continued their walk, and left behind a very ashamed Grayson. Peter looked at the two women that had passed by and then at the wooden sword on the ground. Finally he glared at his friend, and started laughing.

"Errr…" – squeaked the ashamed Fighter.

"Don't tell me that you…" – inquired Peter.

"No…" – lied Grayson.

"Ah! You are the idiot that bought the wooden sword!" – mocked Peter.

"Hey! I am not an idiot! And this sword is quite powerful! It made me a Hero, it did!" – yelled the Fighter.

Peter stopped laughing and showed a blank look.

"A Hero?" – repeated Peter.

"Hell, yeah! A Hero!" – assured the Fighter.

"What did you do?" – demanded the Ranger.

"I saved a Gnome from an intimidating Thug!" – explained Grayson.

"You saved a Gnome? From an intimidating Thug?" – asked Peter.

"What? Is there an echo in here?" – mocked Grayson.

"How?" – inquired a confused Peter.

"I hit him on the head with the wooden sword. He fell to the ground unconscious and I saved the Gnome! And the Gnome said that I was a brave Hero!" – told Grayson.

"No! Really?" – said the Ranger.

"Really!" – confirmed the Fighter.

Peter decided to congratulate Grayson by slapping his friend on the back, which made Grayson scream in pain.

"Wow! You know what is funny?" – asked Peter.

"What?" – cried the Fighter, while rubbing his back again.

"There was a Gnome inside my uncle's Tavern. Do you think that it could be the same Gnome?" – questioned the Ranger.

"Don't be daft, Peter! That would be a very freakish coincidence" – yelled Grayson.

"Yeah… I guess that you are right…" – mumbled the Ranger.

Grayson's back was still in pain, but the Fighter could feel the pain wearing off. He looked at his friend and then at the small barrel that was standing next to him.

"And what about you, Peter?" – inquired a curious Grayson.

"Well, believe it or not… My uncle has given me a quest. I am to do a little errand for him." – said Peter.

"Quest? For your uncle? Really?" – demanded a surprised Grayson.

"Yup." – confirmed the Ranger.

"Wow! What do you have to do?" – questioned the Fighter.

"I have to fill that barrel over there with swamp water." – explained Peter.

"Where are you going to find swamp water?" – asked Grayson.

"In the swamp, of course." – answered Peter.

"Damn! It seems like a great quest!" – stated the Fighter.

"Yeah! My first quest! Can you believe it?" – inquired Peter.

Grayson couldn't believe that he was actually envying Peter.

"Hey! Can I come with you?" – begged Grayson.

Peter showed his friend a sneaky smile and scratched his chin.

"It depends…" – jested the Ranger.

"Depends on what?" – growled Grayson.

"If you come, I will have to be the leader of the team." – explained Peter.

"What? Why?" – demanded the Fighter.

"Because it is my quest." – answered the Ranger.

"Well… It seems fair… Is that all?" – questioned Grayson.

"No. You also have to carry the small heavy barrel." – continued Peter.

"What? No way!" – raged Grayson.

"Very well, then! I will ask someone else to join my Epic Quest." – lied the Ranger.

"You are going to a stinky swamp…" – jested the Fighter.

"You got that right! I am going… You are not…" – mocked Peter.

"Well… I don't even want to go…" – growled the Fighter.

"You said you wanted to!" – said the Ranger.

"I changed my mind!" – assured Grayson.

Ironically, at that exact same moment, two Thugs passed by the two friends. They seemed to be talking enthusiastically with each other.

"And Tiffany told everyone that he would kill the bastard slowly. He wants him to suffer a lot." – mocked one of the Thugs.

"What kind of an idiot would mock that bear of a man?" – wondered the other Thug.

"A soon to be dead idiot." – jested the first Thug.

Grayson's face went suddenly white with fear. He had absolutely forgotten about that damn brute!

"Peter… I changed my mind, again." – whispered Grayson.

"What?" – demanded the Ranger.

"I want to go to the swamp with you." – stated the Fighter.

"Really?" – asked Peter.

"You heard me…" – raged Grayson.

"Well… I can't accept that." – said Peter.

"Why not?" – yelled the Fighter.

"I want you to beg more. You aren't even on your knees." – explained the Ranger.

"Look! I am actually doing this as a favour to you!" – lied Grayson.

"Huh?" – questioned Peter.

"I have hear some rumours…" – continued the Fighter.

"Oh? Well those aren't true! I don't even like banana pies!" – yelled Peter with haste.

Grayson showed his friend a confused look. Banana pies?

"What the hell you are talking about?" – growled Grayson.

"Eerrr… Nothing… And you?" – murmured Peter.

"I was talking about an Assassin that wants to kill you." – concluded Grayson.

"Kill me? Why me?" – inquired the frightened Ranger.

"He is after you because…" – mumbled the Fighter.

"Because?" – begged the Ranger.

"He doesn't want you… to complete your quest!" – squeaked Grayson.

"What?" – asked Peter.

"Yes!" – assured Grayson.

"What a fiend! Well… I guess I will need your help, after all." – stated Peter.

"Great!" – yelled the Fighter.

"But you are still carrying the small heavy barrel…" – added the Ranger.

"You damn rotten excuse for a friend… I am trying to help you!" – growled the Fighter.

"And you will help me more if you carry the small heavy barrel. Deal?" – asked Peter.

Grayson glared at the small barrel and then sighed. What choice did he have?

"Deal…" – mumbled Grayson.

"Then, let's go!" – shouted Peter.

"Whatever…" – murmured the Fighter.

Peter showed his friend a worried look.

"Do you know where the swamp is?" – asked the Ranger.

"Well… No… Do you?" – demanded Grayson.

"No…" – answered Peter.

"You are a Ranger, Peter…" – mocked the Fighter.

"So?" – cried Peter.

"Can't you talk with the animals or study the plants in order to find the location of the swamp?" – questioned Grayson.

"What? I don't think I can do that!" – stated Peter.

"Darn! You have got to be kidding me…" – mumbled the Fighter.

Peter looked at his bow and then shrugged.

"We could always ask for directions…" – offered the Ranger.

"We are Heroes, Peter… Heroes never ask for directions…" – said Grayson.

"What if they are lost?" – inquired Peter.

"Heroes are never lost!" – explained the Fighter.

"Well… What about maps?" – wondered Peter.

"Hummm… Yeah! Heroes use maps." – answered Grayson.

"Ah! Then I know what to do!" – yelled the Ranger.

"You do?" – inquired the Fighter.

"We can ask Pawl the Dorf for a map." – continued Peter.

"Oh! That is a great idea, Peter!" – said Grayson with sarcastically tones.

"It is isn't it?" – said Peter, with a joyful smile.

"No!" – growled the Fighter.

"Why?" – demanded the confused Ranger.

"Pawl. Pawl the Dorf. Pawl the Dorf with no direction sense. Pawl the Dorf who gets claustrophobic _in caves_." – stated Grayson.

"I am missing your point, Grayson…" – squeaked Peter.


	25. The Map

**Chapter 24; The Map **

Pawl the Dorf wasn't the bravest of Dwarves. He knew that, and he accepted that fact with ease.

So it was only natural, that he would try to escape the soon to be doomed City of Neverending.

That Dwarf King looked really angry and upset. Pawl doubted that the King had lied about the threats to him and the City.

But there was a small problem, an obstacle if you will… Pawl was a coward. He didn't have the courage to run away alone. By himself… To the unknown…

He looked at his battleaxe, the common weapon of choice of his kin. He liked it, really. It looked mean and lethal. Alas he hates to hurt others. He couldn't stand the sight of blood.

Pawl knew that he was horrible at being a Dwarf. He couldn't fight like one, and he couldn't even drink like one. He preferred to drink fruit juices over alcoholic beverages.

And that was just wrong, according to Dwarf standards.

But Pawl was a Dwarf. That much he was certain. Heck, he even had a beard, for crying out loud.

But he just… didn't feel like one.

For example, he liked reading. He truly did. Reading books about adventures and quests. He loved them! He wished he was like those wise and strong adventurers, which always won the day and got the girl.

But he knew that he would never save the day… nor would he get the girl.

He was feeling miserable again. That wasn't new… He always felt miserable, when he thought about his racial heritage and problems fitting the Dwarven society.

Pawl felt very lonely. He just wanted to fit in, but he never did. It was a truly impossible dream for he was a Dwarf that didn't know how to act like one.

The depressed Dwarf looked at his backpack and sighed. The only thing that he had on the backpack was bags full of salt. Damn salt…

He had invested all of his money on the linguistics class and books about Dwarves. He could only afford the salt at this time.

He examined the sky, and prayed that a lightning would strike him down and put him off his misery.

But the merciful lightning never came. It never did.

"Hey! It's him!"

Pawl´s face went suddenly white with fear. Had his kin already attacked the City? Or had the Merchant warned the Watch about him?

The frightened Dwarf started running away. What else could he do? Wait patiently for his gruesome death?

"Hey! Wait! It's just us!"

But Pawl didn't care. He didn't know who they, or what they wanted, but he knew that he didn't want to find out what the wanted, especially if it involve his head on a spike.

"Does he owe you money?"

"No! Now that I think about it… I owe him some money."

"Really?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to get paid."

"Let's go after him!"

"My legs hurt!"

"Shut up!"

The Dwarf was running as fast as he could, running for his life. Damn the heavy armor! It was slowing him down! He could hear the footsteps of his stalkers getting closer.

"Go away!" – shouted Pawl.

But the stalkers just yelled for him to stop running. One of them was actually begging him to stop because his legs were killing him.

"Ah! If they want to kill me, you have to work for it!" – murmured the Dwarf.

He hastily turned left, and continued to run for his life. His breath was getting heavier and heavier, and his muscles were beginning to hurt. He wasn't used to run this much. But he was running for his life, so he couldn´t stop.

"Damn it! How can that guy run so fast?"

"Can´t feel… my legs…"

Pawl couldn't contain a smile of relief. His foes were also tired. That gave him motivation to go on. The more his stalkers whined, the faster he ran.

Unfortunately, he took a wrong turn, and ended up in a dead end. The Dwarf bashed into the wall and felled to the ground.

So this was it… The end. The final curtain. The last mine.

He picked up his battleaxe and tried to stand upright. He was a coward, alright. But those bloodthirsty bastards didn't know that. He hoped…

The Dwarf saw two shadows approaching the alley. He growled and started threatening them with his axe.

Both men stopped and gestured the Dwarf to calm down.

"Pawl, it is me… Grayson!" – stated one of the men.

The other one fell on the ground and started whining about his feet and something about incredible pain his back. Only one guy in the City of Neverending could whine like that… And that guy was Peter.

That guy had reached perfection in the whining department. It was like watching a master craftsman doing his work of art. It was like appreciating a meal prepared by the best of cooks. Peter´s whines were considered by all, works of Art.

"Lads? Why were ye following me?" – demanded the Dwarf.

Pawl had been so nervous and paranoid, that he had forgotten to fake his Dwarven accent. He should be more careful, if he didn't want everyone and their lawyer to know that he couldn't even speak like a Dwarf.

Grayson was trying to catch his breath, and backed down against a wall. Peter was whining about his life and the need of water.

"We wanted to talk with you, dummy!" – answered the Fighter.

The Dwarf let go of his battleaxe. The thud of the axe hitting the ground echoed for some time.

"Me be sorry, lads! Aye! Me thought that ye were Goblins or something!" – lied the Dwarf.

Grayson cursed the Dwarf´s stupidity and pointed at his tired friend.

"I could accept that you mistake that idiot for a Goblin! But me?" – replied Grayson.

Both Dwarf and Fighter started laughing at that comment. But the Ranger didn't laugh. Actually, he hadn't even listened to the comment. His feet ached and his mouth was dry. He only wanted whine about his problems and maybe cry a little.

"What did ye want, lads?" – asked the Dwarf.

Grayson helped Peter to straighten up, and glared at the Dwarf.

"We need a map, Pawl." – said the Fighter.

Peter nodded in agreement.

"And a Cleric…" – mumbled Peter.

Grayson showed his friend a mocking smile.

"What about that talk about being able to detect serious injuries and cure them?" – jested Grayson.

"I am too tired to do anything that requires thinking." – grumbled the Ranger.

The Fighter nodded and showed the Dwarf a joyful smile.

"Thank the gods, then. The day that Peter starts thinking, it will be a sign of the end of the world, it will." – joked the Fighter.

Peter slapped his friend on the head, but laughed at the joke. The Dwarf felt more at ease, now that he knew that he wasn't being followed by assassins or an enraged mob.

"A map to where, lads?" – inquired Pawl.

Peter was feeling better, and was capable of standing upright on his own.

"A map to the swamps, my Dwarven friend." – answered the Ranger.

Pawl considered the answer and nodded. His cousin, a Dwarf cartographer, had given him several maps, including one of the swamp. That stinky place wasn't far away from the City… It was actually really close to it. You could find the swamp by simply following your nose.

But these lads had never got out of the City before, so they didn't know that.

Wait a second! They wanted to away from the City. What a coincidence! So did Pawl. He wanted to go as far away as possible. Sure, the swamp wasn't that far away, but it wasn't the City of Neverending and that meant something.

"Why the swamp, lads?" – questioned the Dwarf.

Maybe they knew about Pawl´s mistake and were also running away from the City.

Both friends looked at each other, as if wondering if they should let the Dwarf know or not. That made Pawl a bit nervous. Perhaps they had really heard about that diplomatic catastrophe.

Finally, Peter decided to tell Pawl what was going how. Grayson didn't interrupt him, so that meant that he agreed on this course of action.

"We are on a quest, pawl." – explained Peter.

"A quest?" – asked an incredulous Dwarf.

Grayson nodded in confirmation.

"We have to get some swamp water for Peter´s uncle." – added the Fighter.

Pawl was confused and a bit lost in all this. But one thing was certain: they didn't know about the coming war, nor who accidentally started it.

"Swamp water?" – inquired the Dwarf.

Peter showed him a sick look.

"You don't want to know… Believe me… You don't want to know…" – mumbled Peter.

Grayson also showed a blank look after that statement. It seemed that Peter hadn't told his friend about it, either.

"By the way, Grayson… Where is the barrel?" – questioned Peter.

The Fighter looked around and then grumbled a few curses.

"Oh, damn! I had to let go of that stupid barrel!" – explained Grayson.

"What?" – yelled Peter.

Pawl was still a bit confused about all this, but he welcomed the time to think that the lads were offering him. He needed to sort out his course of action and going to the swamp was beginning to feel like the best escape route.

"It was darn heavy, Peter! We were running after Pawl, remember?" – growled Grayson.

Peter shrugged as if he just didn´t care about it.

"As your leader, I am telling to go get it." – order Peter.

Grayson stood very still and glared at the Ranger as if he was about to punch him on the face.

"Errr… Please…" – begged Peter.

The Fighter nodded and went after the barrel. What else could he do? They needed the barrel in order to fill it up with swamp water. Damn his luck!

Pawl scratched his beard. He always did that when he was plotting something.

"Can me join yer crew, lad?" – inquired the Dwarf.

Peter looked surprised at the Dwarf question. But he was able to quickly recover his posture.

"Maybe… Why should we accept you? It is a very exclusive quest." – said the Ranger.

"Me have the map, lad!" – remembered Pawl.

Peter showed the Dwarf a sneaky smile.

"Very well! I see your point." – stated Peter.

The Dwarf sighed in relief.

"But besides the map, what have you to offer us?" – added the Ranger.

"Well… Nothing much, really… Only bags full of salt." – explained Pawl.

Peter´s eyes reflected an enormous interest.

"Salt? You have… salt?" – demanded Peter.

The Dwarf nodded in confirmation.

"Me backpack is full of it, aye!" – answered Pawl.

"You are in, mate! Congratulations!" – assured Peter.

"Thanks, lad!" – replied the Dwarf.

Peter nodded and told Pawl to gather his stuff. After that, the Ranger was lost in his own thoughts.

"And so is your salt…" – thought Peter, while showing a joyful smile.


	26. The Pony

**Chapter 25; The Pony **

The Imp knew that he should be happy or at least not so depressed. His Master finally had a Tower of Doom, a symbol of Darkness and Evil. Yet there was something that was ruining this evil moment… And that something was the darn cute pony that his Master had wished for.

That damn idiot had sold his soul to the cruelest of all Demons… in exchange for a damn pony… How pathetic was that?

"Can you please stop patting that damn pony?" – growled the Imp.

The Necromancer was always patting that damn animal. And the Imp hated that… He liked to be the centre of all the attention. Sharing wasn't part of the Imp's dictionary.

"Oh, Imp! Are you feeling jealous?" – asked the Necromancer.

Of course he was! But he would never admit that… Admitting such feeling was showing a weakness. And besides… He wouldn't give the pony that satisfaction…

"Me? Jealous of that damn fish?" – mocked the clearly jealous Familiar.

The Necromancer scratched his head in confusion.

"I think that ponies are mammals." – offered the Wizard.

"Who cares?" – yelled the Imp.

"Well… If he was a fish, he couldn't breathe out of water." – explained the Necromancer.

"Shut up, you fool!" – ordered the Imp.

Okay! So there was a minor setback in the Imp's plan. His Master was an idiot and the damn pony was here instead of being eaten alive by a pack of dire wolves… But at least he had the Tower of Doom. A worthy prize, for an evil fiend from Hell.

"I like this Tower of Doom. You can practically smell the evil of this place." – stated the Imp.

The Wizard looked ashamed all of the sudden. The Imp's glare reflected curiosity and at the same time pure hatred. A very difficult combination, which the fiend had mastered to perfection over the time with his Master.

"Errr… I don't think that smell is from the evil of this place…" – squeaked the Necromancer.

"What?" – raged the Imp.

How he hated to be corrected… especially by this damn idiot…

"The pony had to go to the bathroom…" – continued the Necromancer.

"Huh?" – growled the Imp.

"Only we don't have a bathroom for ponies… So he had to do it on that corner over there." – concluded the Wizard.

"That's just gross…" - mumbled the Imp.

"And stinky." – added the Necromancer.

"How I hate that pony…" – murmured the Imp.

"Duck." – stated the Wizard.

Suddenly, the Imp ducked and threw himself on the ground. The Necromancer just stood patiently observing his Familiar. The Wizard concluded that it must have been the Imp's nap time.

"What happened?" – demanded the Imp, looking a bit paranoid.

"Well… I don't know… I was just talking to you and…" – explained the Wizard.

"Why did you tell me to duck?" – yelled the Imp.

"I didn't tell you to duck." – replied the Necromancer.

"You didn't?" – asked the Imp.

"I said Duck." – corrected the Necromancer.

Well… That didn't make much sense. But the Imp should have been expecting that. His Master rarely made sense. And when he did make sense, the Imp often wished that he hadn't.

"Huh?" – questioned the Imp.

"It is the name of the pony." – said the Necromancer.

"The name of the pony is Duck?" – shouted the Imp.

"That is what I said." – confirmed the Wizard.

"You called the darn beast Duck?" – demanded the fiend.

"Yeah! I think he likes it! Don't you, Duck?" – asked the Necromancer.

The pony didn't answer the question. He just stood there looking cute.

"Just… just… order a Zombie or two to clean that up, okay?" – begged the Imp.

"Will do!" – answered the Necromancer.

The Wizard looked around and found two Zombies that were standing guard near the stairs. The Imp had ordered to the Necromancer to put Zombies guarding every floor… something about distracting adventurers or the milkman.

"Clean that up, please." – stated the Necromancer.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled one of the Zombies.

The other Zombie looked rather surprised at the Wizard's request and scratched his head.

"Oh, I say old chap. That is a very nasty order that you are giving us." – replied the Zombie that had been surprised at the request.

"What?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"I mean, I know we are Undead, but we have feelings, too." – added the Zombie.

"I am sorry…" – said the Wizard, looking ashamed.

"I mean, as a Lawyer I could sue you and all of that jazz." – warned the Zombie, but always maintaining his posture.

"Oh, no, no! I wouldn't want that! I promise that next time I will clean it myself!" – promised the Necromancer.

The Zombie nodded and gave a friendly slap on the Wizard's back.

"That's okay! Just be more thoughtful next time, old chap." – begged the Zombie.

"Very well…" – agreed the Necromancer.

The Imp's look reflected confusion and horror. How could his Master be so spineless?

"I forget… Who commands who?" – jested the vile Imp.

"That guy is one of the best Lawyers of the realms… I don't want to be sued." – explained the terrified Necromancer.

He didn't have any problems selling his soul for a pony, but he couldn't stand being sued? The Imp's eyes were red with anger.

"Shut up!" – ordered the Imp.

"But…" – cried the Necromancer.

The Imp tried to focus on the Tower of Doom. It was his prize, his greatest of dreams. His Master was an idiot, but an idiot with a Tower of Doom. The fiend chuckled at the thought.

"Have you thought about a name for the Tower of Doom?"- inquired the Imp.

"Oh? Should it have a name?" – asked the Necromancer.

"It would be more helpful for the postman when he brings us some letters." – reminded the Imp.

"I guess you are right… Hey! Don't we have the only Tower of Doom in the swamp near Neverending?" – pointed out the Necromancer.

"Well, okay, but you must think in long terms. Who knows? Maybe some Dark Elder God will build a Temple or two in here, or maybe some Orcs will choose to live in the caves we found near the Tower of Doom… You must think of everything, Master!" – explained the Imp.

"I guess that you are right…" – murmured the Necromancer.

"I am always right." – corrected the Imp.

"What about Roger´s Tower of Doom?" – questioned the Necromancer.

"Who the hell is Roger?" – growled the Imp.

"Well… I am Roger." – answered the Necromancer.

"What?" – demanded the Imp.

"Didn't you know that?" – asked the confused Wizard.

"Roger?" – muttered the fiend.

"Yeah!" – confirmed the Necromancer.

"You must be joking…" – begged the Imp.

"No… My name is Roger." – repeated the Wizard.

"Roger the Necromancer?" – cried the Imp.

"That's me." – stated the Necromancer with a joyful smile.

"You must promise me one thing…" – murmured the Imp.

"What?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Never tell the Heroes your true name." – begged the Imp.

"Huh? What is wrong with Roger?" – demanded the Wizard.

"It just isn't… well… very evil…" – explained the fiend.

The Necromancer scratched his chin, and seemed very thoughtful for a moment or two.

"Roger seems quite evil for a name." – offered the Necromancer.

The Zombie decided to join the conversation, while his companion was occupied cleaning the corner. The Zombie picked up his monocle and coughed, in order to be noticed.

"Actually, old chap, it seems a name more appropriate for a Pirate." – said the Zombie.

That statement seemed to make the conversation even more pointless and complex. The Zombie took a small pipe from one of pockets and used a match on it. The smoke that came out of it was green and slimy.

"A Pirate?" – demanded the Imp.

"Well… I mean Captain Roger seems quite catchy." – added the Zombie.

"But aren't Pirates evil?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Zombie seemed to think about his answer, while he smoked his pipe.

"Most of them are just drunken savages, really." – confessed the Zombie.

"Oh!" – exclaimed the Necromancer, feeling even more confused than usual.

"And Captain Roger seems an appropriate name for a drunken savage." – concluded the Zombie.

"An evil drunken savage?" – questioned the Necromancer.

"No. Just a drunken savage." – replied the Zombie.

The Imp was sick and tired of this dirty imbecile. That and that damn pipe was getting on his nerves.

"Shut up, you idiot! Go and clean the floor!" – growled the Imp.

The zombie looked at the Imp, as if the fiend was a mere dust ball.

"I say… How rude, old chap! Where are your manners?" – demanded the Zombie.

"I am a fiend from Hell! I don't have any manners!" – answered the Imp, showing him a cruel and vile smile.

"Well, I am a flesh eating Zombie and you don't see me burping and cursing at everything that moves. I mean, we have to be civil, old chap. Being civil is what separates us from furniture." – explained the Zombie.

The Imp sighed. He was beginning to get another headache; he could endure one idiot, but two idiots? He wasn't sadistic enough for this kind of torture.

"Go away!" – raged the Imp.

"Ah, ah! What is the magic word?" – asked the Zombie.

"Errr…" – murmured the Imp.

"You can do it, old chap! Say it!" – offered the Zombie.

"Please… go away…" – begged the Imp.

The Zombie started applauding the Imp's effort, which made the Imp feel really ashamed by his actions. What would the other Demons and Devils think? He had a reputation as an evil and rude creature to maintain.

"Super, old chap!" – stated the Zombie, before he left.

The Imp shrugged and examined his Master. The Necromancer was making funny faces, as if he had suddenly gone mad. That would kind of neat, the Imp thought.

"And you… Don't you dare use your damn name!" – ordered the Imp.

But his Master wasn't paying any attention to him. He was still making some funny faces and walking in an awkward way.

"Argh, matey!" – yelled the Necromancer, almost giving the Imp a heart attack.

"What was that?" – squeaked the Imp.

"Shiver me timbers!" – shouted the Necromancer, while jumping up and down.

"Huh?" – mumbled the Imp.

"Walk the plank, ya land lover!" – ordered the Necromancer, while pretending that one of his hands was a hook.

"Shut up, you fool!" – raged the Imp.

The Necromancer showed him a sad look, as if the Imp had ruined his fun.

"Oh, but the Lawyer Zombie guy said that Roger was a Pirate name." – cried the Wizard, while looking at his feet.

"The other Zombie said "Brains… Brains… Brains…", but that doesn't mean you have one." - mocked the fiend.

"I guess that you are right." – admitted the Necromancer.

The Imp nodded in agreement. Finally, his Master was beginning to calm down and forget all those eccentricities.

"I get really seasick and all…" – added the Wizard, while showing a joyful smile.


	27. Andrea

**Chapter 26; Andrea**

"Why didn't I choose a mad Sorcerer for a Master? Why?" – wondered the Imp.

"Because you are an idiot, pathetic creature…"

Both Villains went suddenly quiet. Someone, that wasn't one of them, had spoken. And since the Zombie was gone, it couldn't have been him. And if it wasn't him or one of them… Then that meant that someone else had spoken. A stranger, perhaps. Or even worse… A Tax Collector.

"Who dares say that?" – demanded the Imp, while showing his tiny fangs.

A dark figure emerged form the shadows. It was definitely a woman… A Human, perhaps? The Imp didn't know why, but he felt really afraid. It was as if he was looking into a dark hole, full of emptiness. The woman transmitted a feeling of hopelessness. And those dark eyes of hers, reflected a cruel contempt.

He couldn't help but notice that he was actually trembling in fear. And that was terrible.

"I dare." – replied the woman.

"Oh, by all the Demons in hell! You?" - squeaked the Imp, after remembering who he was facing.

"Andrea…" – murmured the Necromancer.

**… **

Very little is known about Andrea the Assassin. Because she refers to her mother as "Evil Queen" one might believe that Andrea is an heir to some great kingdom.

What is known about Andrea the Assassin is that she is a high ranking officer of the Crimson Draco Legion, an organization of Assassins and Thieves that follow the orders of an ancient red dragon, that some say is as old as time itself.

**… **

"Hello, little brother." – greeted Andrea.

Her dark eyes were blacker than coal, and there was nothing nice about that smile. It was in fact the opposite of nice.

"Stop calling me that!"- demanded the Necromancer.

"And why should I stop calling you that, little brother?" – teased Andrea.

"We are twins, Andrea." – reminded the Necromancer.

"I came to this world first, little brother." – growled the Assassin.

"Well… Just don't call me that! Please!" – begged the Necromancer.

"If you say so…" – offered Andrea.

The Assassin started slowly walking towards her sibling.

"… little brother." – snapped Andrea, while showing the Wizard a cold stare.

The Assassin started admiring the building and touching the walls. The way she moved… It was like watching a snake crawl before killing a poor defenceless creature.

"I see that you have a Tower of Doom. I am impressed!" – admitted Andrea.

"A Demon gave it to me." – replied the Necromancer, trying to impress his sibling.

"Oh? I do hope that you didn't sell you soul to it." – jested the Assassin, while glaring at the Zombies that were approaching to see what was the reason for all that commotion.

"What for a Tower of Doom? Are you crazy?" – mocked the Necromancer.

The Assassin nodded and winked at her brother.

"It seems that you aren't as dumb as I thought you were." – teased Andrea.

"I sold my soul for that pony over there." – added the Necromancer.

The Assassin's face went suddenly blank as she grasped the meaning of what her sibling had said. Then she noticed the pony. It was a cute thing… but definitely not worth the price.

"I guess that you are dumber…" – whispered Andrea.

"His name is Duck." – stated the Necromancer.

"Cute… Stupid… But cute…" – growled the Assassin.

"Why are you here, Andrea?" – demanded the Necromancer.

"If I said that I just wanted to see how you where doing, little bother, would you believe me?" – lied Andrea.

"No…" – replied the Necromancer.

"Good! Because I don't care about you or your damn Tower of Doom… I want to know what this little adventure of yours will contribute to our cause." – ordered the Assassin.

"Our?" – asked the Necromancer, looking confused.

"The Crimson Draco Legion, little brother." – reminded the Assassin.

"I…" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"We are a team, little brother. And there isn't an "I" on team. I do hope that you remember that?" – threatened Andrea.

The Imp was caught completely by surprised.

"You belong to the Crimson Draco Legion?" – inquired the Imp.

"Yeah…" – answered the Necromancer.

"The Crimson Draco Legion?" – repeated the fiend, looking even more perplexed by the irony of it all.

His Master, a total idiot, was a member of the Crimson Draco Legion. The Crimson Draco Legion!

"Yes…" – confirmed the Necromancer.

"The most evil of all of the evil organizations of the realms?" – squeaked the Imp.

"Again… yes…" – stated the Wizard, looking a bit ashamed.

"Wow!" – yelled the Imp.

Andrea nodded in confirmation.

"Indeed, he does. He is one of us. I do hope that you still are, little brother. I would hate to have to kill you." – threatened the Assassin.

"What?" – questioned the Necromancer.

"Alright… I wouldn't hate it that much… In fact…" – replied Andrea, while showing her sibling a cold smile.

She kissed his right cheek and patted him on the head.

"Killing you would be a pleasure." – added the Assassin.

"Andrea, you are scaring me!" – squeaked the Necromancer.

"You don't have to fear me, little brother… If you don't fail the Crimson Draco Legion. If you don't fail me." – reminded Andrea.

"I won't…" – promised the worried Wizard.

"He won't!" – agreed the Imp.

"Good! I saw three adventurers coming in this direction. Prove your worth, little brother. Or pay the price of failure!" – said Andrea.

"How much gold is it?" – asked the Necromancer.

Andrea picked up a small black cube from one of her pockets and sighed.

"Your life." – answered the Assassin.

"Oh!" – mumbled the Wizard.

Andrea threw the cube at the wall a red portal appeared suddenly.

"Goodbye, little brother. And pathetic creature…" - mocked Andrea.

"Goodbye, oh evil one!" – said the Imp.

"Yeah! Sure…" – added the Necromancer.

Then she was gone, leaving behind a pair of worried Villains.

"What now?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp shrugged. He didn't know what to do… It was time to improvise.

"Well… Send the damn Undead against them!" – suggested the fiend.

"I guess that will have to do…" – agreed the Wizard, feeling a bit nervous.

"Don't you have any more tricks that we could use?" – offered the Familiar.

"Well… Only one…" – replied the Necromancer.

"What is it, then?" – inquired the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at the eyes of his Familiar and nodded.

"A Vampire." – answered the Necromancer.

"Oh? One of those buggers…" – mumbled a not very interested Familiar.

"A very special kind of Vampire…" – corrected the Wizard, noticing the lack of interest.

"Those damn idiots are useless! Holy water, garlic, wooden stakes, the light of the sun… Too many weaknesses!" – pointed out the Imp.

"Well… Not this guy… He only has one weakness!" – said the Necromancer.

"One weakness? You are kidding me?" – demanded the fiend.

"I am telling you the truth!" – promised the Wizard.

"What is it then?" – questioned the Familiar, while scratching his behind.

The Necromancer told everything to his Familiar, including the only weakness of the evil creature. The Imp's eyes went wide with surprise.

"What?" – murmured the Familiar.

"That's right!" – assured the Wizard.

"That's just pathetic…" – mocked the Imp.

"Well… What do you think?" – asked the Necromancer, ignoring the pessimism of his Familiar.

"I guess it will have to work…" – admitted the Imp.

The Necromancer spoke a few mysterious words and picked up one of his wands. He pointed the wand against the wall and a magical rune appeared suddenly. A black portal appeared out of nowhere and a creature started to walk right through it.

"Behold! The Sal Vampire" – yelled the Wizard, while clapping his hands.

"Wow!" – shouted the Imp.

The creature looked evil enough. And if what his Master had told him was true, then the adventurers were in for a big surprise.

"You know what? I think that it will work… I really do! Do the maniacal laugh!" – ordered the Familiar.

"Huh?" – asked a distracted Necromancer.

"Now!" – demanded the Imp.

"Muah-hi-hi-hi-hi!" – laughed the Wizard, trying really hard to do it right.

"Ah! You are getting better at it!" – admitted the fiend.

"I have been practising." – replied the Necromancer.

"It still stinks, though…" – added the Imp.


	28. The Oracle

**Chapter 27; The Oracle **

Peter couldn't believe his own eyes. The swamp was… well… it was a very stinky place. It was a horrible place, full of ugly and yucky bugs. He had to control a sudden urge to puke.

But Peter wasn't frightened, or at least too frightened. Oh, no! He was accompanied by two warriors that would sacrifice their lives for him. He was after all the Hero and leader of the group.

Grayson wasn't as confident as his best friend, basically because he knew that his wooden sword was useless. That meant that his life was in the hands of a Dwarf that didn't know how to act like a Dwarf and a Ranger that had a bow, but didn't have arrows.

He was, he concluded, doomed.

Pawl examined the swamp around him and shrugged. He didn't mind the smell, but h hated the fact that the waters looked as clean as a Demon's conscience.

"Now what, lads?" – demanded Pawl.

The Ranger stepped forward and told Grayson to fill the small barrel with the swamp water. Peter tried with all his willpower, which wasn't saying much, to stop thinking about swamp water's purpose.

Grayson nodded and started following his orders. He felt a bit ashamed really, knowing that he was following the orders of an idiot, even if that idiot happened to be his best friend. But the Fighter knew that he needed to keep up this façade, if he wanted to be away from Tiffany´s wrath.

Pawl just stood there looking worried. He knew that soon or later, his kin would find him… Maybe he would get lucky and just exiled for life. They would cut his beard and maybe spit on his boots. Pawl sighed… He knew that he wasn't lucky. He was practically the opposite of luck. He was a very unlucky Dwarf.

"You are still a Dwarf, young one."

The Dwarf went suddenly quiet. Someone that was neither Peter nor Grayson had spoken to him. Well… that could mean only one thing… trouble. Pawl screamed with all his might and started running towards Peter.

The Ranger also screamed in fear, but his scream was even louder than that of the Dwarf. And Peter didn't even know why Pawl was screaming.

Grayson picked up his wooden sword and started investigating his surroundings. He was trembling like a young boy that was about to go to school.

"What? What?" – inquired the Fighter.

Peter started to shout some nuisances about him being the leader and therefore should be protected at all costs. Grayson decided to ignore his friend, judging him insane with fear. Scratch that… just insane.

"Pawl?" – whispered the Fighter, noting that the Dwarf was standing behind a tree.

The Dwarf nodded and pointed towards a strange rock formation that was standing in front of the Fighter. Grayson's throat was suddenly dry. What should he do? Fight, of course. He was the Fighter. But, but… what if the creature was stronger than him? What if the creature had a real sword?

"Damn, Pawl! Pick up your axe and help me out!" – ordered Grayson.

Pawl wasn't very thrilled about that idea. He hated using that thing. He had almost cut off one of his legs once, while he had been training. But the Dwarf knew that he had to do something. He picked up his axe and joined Grayson that was looking even more worried.

The Ranger had also joined his comrades, but only because he wanted to hide behind something. And what better place to hide, than behind two guys that had weapons?

"Come out, foul creature!" – squeaked Grayson.

"If ye really want to, that is…" – added Pawl.

A Dwarf appeared from behind the strange rock formation. He was wearing a strange green robe, with some ancient runes painted on it. He looked really old, but at the same time wise beyond comprehension.

The sight of the old Dwarf made Pawl nervous. He had heard stories of an old Dwarf Cleric that worked for the King Goldlover. According to the rumours, he could talk to the gods themselves, acting as a sort of intermediary between the divine and mortals. If that old Dwarf was him, then that meant that the King was also near. It was all a matter of time until his kin caught him, Pawl thought.

"Hello, Heroes of the Light." – greeted the old Dwarf.

Grayson looked a bit confused by the greeting, but Peter was suddenly calm. Heroes of the Light, huh?

"Greetings, old Dwarf!" – said Peter, while showing a bright smile.

The old Dwarf glared at the Ranger and then studied the so-called "Heroes". His visions had alerted him of these lads and of their importance for upcoming battle against evil.

"You may call me the Oracle." – replied the old Dwarf.

"Oh? Why are you called that?" – inquired the Ranger.

The Oracle sighed. He was beginning to doubt the veracity of his visions. He was getting older with the years, and he was possibly senile. But his visions had seemed real enough, at least to him.

"I am called that, because I am an Oracle, lad." – answered the Dwarf Cleric, while stepping down from the strange rock formation.

Peter´s face was blank, as if he didn't understood the meaning of the Dwarf's answer. The Fighter had to fight a sudden urge to slap his friend on the head for being so ignorant.

"An Oracle is a Diviner, Peter." – explained Grayson.

Pawl nodded. So it was really him? The Dwarven King's Cleric. Oh, bugger!

The Oracle gestured Pawl to calm down and told him that he wasn't there to judge any of them.

"I am here to give you some warnings…" – stated the Oracle.

Peter still looked confused, but he didn't say anything. He figured out that if no one was bothering to explain to him in a more clear fashion, then it wasn't really worth of understanding.

"Warning? Are you threatening us?" – demanded the Fighter.

The Oracle gestured for Grayson to shut up and pointed at the adventurers, one at the time, ending with Pawl.

"Each one of you will receive a sort of blessing. I am giving you some clues about your future. It will be filled with danger and peril. But follow my advices and you will survive to tell the tale." – warned the Oracle.

The three adventurers stood paralysed with curiosity. What did the old Dwarf mean with those dark and mysterious words?

"I shall give to each one of you an advice. I recommend you to follow it, lads." – continued the Oracle.

The Oracle started coughing. He looked even older after that thunderous cough, but he regained his posture soon after.

"Why are you doing this?" – questioned Grayson, that thought that this old Dwarf was indeed drunk and speaking nuisances.

"I have seen your future, lads. You will be the shield of Good against some very dark forces. I have come here to help you." – explained the Dwarf Cleric.

Pawl glared at Grayson. It seemed that even Pawl thought that the old Dwarf was a total lunatic.

The Oracle showed the adventurers a mocking smile.

"I can read your thoughts, you know?" – said the Dwarf Cleric.

That statement made Grayson a bit uncomfortable. He didn't know if the old Dwarf spoke the truth, but he couldn't help but feel a bit paranoid. It seemed that both his companions shared his thoughts.

"Really? What am I thinking about now?" – dared Peter.

The Oracle seemed a bit distracted with his thoughts, and then he started to concentrate on something. His brown eyes went suddenly icy white, and he started muttering some gibberish.

"You are thinking about… about… salt?" – replied the Oracle.

Grayson and Pawl started laughing hysterically at that stupid answer. Imagine that? Peter thinking about salt in a time like this? Not even Peter would commit such a stupidity?

But strangely enough, the Ranger was laughing along his friends. That didn't make any kind of sense. Unless…

"You weren't, Peter… Tell me you weren't…" – begged Grayson.

The Ranger looked ashamed, but couldn't deny the truth. He was a real addict to salt, he thought about salt almost every hour of the day. He loved it! He simply loved it!

"Well… I could always lie to you." – offered Peter.

Pawl´s face could only be described as one in complete shock, as if his mind was clouded in confusion. He didn't know what was more disturbing… The fact that the old Dwarf could read their thoughts, or that Peter had been thinking about salt. Wait a second… He had a backpack full of that stuff. Oh, my! So that's why the Ranger was always asking him to hold his backpack and mumbling something like "My precious…" over and over again.

The Dwarf examined his backpack and noticed that some of the bags of salt were indeed missing. Wow! At least three bags had been eaten by Peter. That fiend…

"I want to try again, please." – said the Ranger.

The Oracle nodded in agreement and told Peter to think about something else.

"Okay! I am doing it… Give it another try!" – dared the Ranger.

The Dwarf Cleric looked a bit puzzled but then showed the lad a mocking smile.

"You are thinking about salt, again." – answered the Oracle.

"What?" – yelled Grayson.

"Huh?" – shouted Pawl.

Peter just stood there, looking beaten. He had tried his best, but he had failed once again. It was of no use… The only thing that came to his mind was salt. Unless…

"I want to try again!" – stated the Ranger.

The old Dwarf shrugged and told Peter that he could try yet again. Why not? It seemed like an interesting and amusing course of action.

The Ranger seemed quite concentrated on his thinking. You could see it in his eyes. He was really trying really hard to think about something else besides salt.

Finally, Peter asked the Oracle what he was thinking. The Oracle closed his eyes and seemed to hesitate. Could it be that Peter had beaten the Dwarf Cleric?

"Errr… This can't be right…" – mumbled the old Dwarf.

Grayson looked a bit uncertain. The Oracle didn't say that he failed, only that it didn't seem right; which seemed natural, considering the source of the thought.

"What? Was it salt?" – inquired Pawl, feeling a bit curious.

The Oracle showed him a grin and grumbled something.

"No… Not salt." – offered the old Dwarf.

"What then?" – asked Grayson.

"Pepper flavoured salt." – answered the Dwarf Cleric.

"What?" – yelled Grayson, while mentally cursing his friend's stupidity.

"Well… It wasn't salt…" – murmured Peter, feeling a bit ashamed.

"Why pepper flavoured slat? Why not pepper?" – demanded the Fighter.

The Ranger shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

"Because pepper isn't salt, genius. But pepper flavoured salt is still salt." – replied Peter, with a snobbish tone of voice.

Grayson sighed and decided that he should pay less attention to his friend's remarks, for sanity's sake.

"If you say so, Mr. Expert." – jested the Fighter, while rolling his eyes.

The Oracle winked at Grayson as if he shared the Fighter's line of thought.

"Would you like to have a try, brave Fighter?" – questioned the old Dwarf.

Grayson was a bit suspicious of the offer. He knew that his thought would be way better than Peter´s, and much more difficult to be read by that mysterious sage.

What could he do? He accepted the challenge. Maybe then, Peter would face reality and admit that he, Grayson, was the real Hero.

He concentrated on his thoughts. Sweat crossed his face, but Grayson didn't seem to care or even to take notice. He would prove to everyone once and for all that he was the true great Hero.

"Ready?" – mocked the Oracle.

Grayson nodded and looked nervous. So this was it… The big test. He wouldn't fail. He couldn't afford that risk.

The Oracle closed his eyes and seemed to be trapped in his own thoughts. He murmured something and then started laughing like a maniac.

"What?" – demanded the Fighter.

The old Dwarf tried to regain his posture, but failed at every time.

"What?" – repeated Grayson, feeling a bit worried by this turn of events.

"You were also thinking about salt." – laughed the Dwarf Cleric.

The Fighter was about to mock the old Dwarf and accuse him of being an insane fool, but suddenly decided against that course of action. The old Dwarf had spoken the truth, for Grayson hadn't been able to think about anything but salt.

"Peter´s stupidity must be contagious…" – raged the Fighter.

Peter was also joining the laugher, as was Pawl. Their laughs echoed through out the swamp, which made the Fighter even angrier.

"Well… Fun is fun, but I must accomplish my objective" – said the Dwarf Cleric, while clearing his face of the tears of amusement.

"Which was?" – asked Peter.

The old Dwarf sighed, and reminded the Ranger that he was an Oracle that could see into the future and that he was going to give each of them a very precious and useful advice.

"Oh? That? Of course I remembered that!" – lied the Ranger.

"No, you didn't." – replied the Dwarf Cleric.

Peter looked really surprised.

"Wow! It is almost as if you can read my thoughts!" – murmured the Ranger.

"Errr… I can…" – stated the Oracle.

"Ah! That explains it, then." – said Peter.

The Oracle gestured of the Ranger to shut up, and closed his eyes as if he had a terrible headache.

"Grayson!" – growled the Dwarf Cleric.

The Fighter looked a bit worried, but approached the old Dwarf.

"When you are about to encounter your doom, you must throw the stick." – said the Oracle.

Grayson's face reflected pure confusion. What the hell?

"That's it? That's my advice?" – grumbled the Fighter.

"Shut up! Peter?" – raged the old Dwarf.

The Ranger also approached the Oracle, and patiently waited for the advice.

"When you face the fangs, you must sacrifice that which you hold dear." – stated the Oracle, his headache seeming worse than ever.

Peter looked a bit uncertain, but thanked the old Dwarf.

Now… It was Pawl´s turn.

"Pawl… Approach me! Now!" – ordered the Oracle.

The Dwarf did what he had been told and silently waited for the last advice of this strange seer. The advice that could change Pawl´s destiny.

"When you go into the darkness, shake the potion and throw it away!" - yelled the Dwarf Cleric.

"Err… What potion?" – asked the Dwarf, with a blank look.

The Oracle looked a bit uneasy, but his headache seemed to vanish as quickly as it had come.

"Sorry, lad?" – mumbled the old Dwarf.

"I said what potion?" – reminded Pawl.

The Oracle shrugged and told him that he didn't know.

"My visions… Sorry… I am getting too old for this kind of magic." – explained the Dwarf Cleric.

The three adventurers looked a bit uncertain. Those advices were rather useless, since they held no actual value.

"Now go, lads! Go! You have a mission to accomplish!" – grumbled the Oracle.

"But we already have the barrel full of swamp water." – said Peter.

"I know… And I must not forget to never again have a drink at your uncle's tavern." – mocked the old Dwarf.

The Ranger looked a bit uneasy, but the other two companions didn't seem follow the conversation.

"How did you know about that?" – inquired the Ranger.

"I can read thoughts, dummy!" – reminded the Oracle.

"Really?" – asked Peter.

"Shut up! I am starting to believe that your friend, Grayson, may be right... Your stupidity is very likely to be contagious." – mocked the old Dwarf.

Grayson showed a grin, and tried to savour that comment. But something wasn't making sense to the Fighter…

"But if our true quest isn't filling the small barrel with swamp water, then what is it?" – questioned the Fighter.

The Oracle was beginning to lose his patience. He pointed towards an intimidating Tower that was standing in the middle of the swamp and ordered them to go there.

"There! Go there!" – answered the Dwarf Cleric.

Peter was about to start walking towards the mysterious Tower, when Grayson told him to stop. The Fighter wasn't about to commit a suicidal mission, even if it was for the greater Good. In fact, he didn't even care for the grater Good, if he couldn't be around to enjoy it.

"Why should we go there and risk our necks?" – demanded the Fighter.

The Oracle seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"If you won't do it for the innocent and good folks of the realms, then at least do it for the glory and riches that your little adventure will surely offer you." – stated the old Dwarf.

"Glory? Riches?" – asked Grayson.

"Well… Saving the world is usually followed by those. And women! Don't forget about the women! Beautiful women that love strong Heroes!" – continued the Oracle, trying hard to convince the trio of adventurers.

"Beautiful women? Wow!" – murmured Peter.

The Dwarf Cleric nodded in confirmation.

"And if you follow my advices, then nothing bad will happen to you! I promise you, that much!" – concluded the old Dwarf.

The three adventurers nodded and started walking towards the dark Tower, not knowing that it was in fact, the lair of the Villains. A Tower of Doom.

The old Dwarf coughed again, but this time the cough wasn't so brutal.

"They are the pawns of Good. They will battle the pawns of Evil. And if they lose, then we shall all suffer. We shall all be devoured by the cruel darkness, our souls thrown into the emptiness of the evil void." – whispered the Oracle.

And the only Heroes that could stop that catastrophe were those three adventurers.

"We are all doomed…" – mumbled the old Dwarf.


	29. Tiffany

**Chapter 28; Tiffany **

"That is one mean looking Tower…" – murmured Peter, trembling a bit.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, Peter thought. They were only going to get some damn swamp water, not face Evil and its minions… or whatever.

It had been a simple quest. Get in the swamp, get the swamp water and get out. Why had it suddenly become so complicated?

Oracles, dark forces, Towers, advices… Damn them all!

But Peter kept going, even thought he didn't want to. And that surprised the Ranger, because he wasn't used to be this courageous. Maybe it was because of something that he ate?

"Why are we doing this again?" – asked Grayson, that also lacked a bit of faith in the purpose of this mission.

Peter sighed and looked at his best friend with a worried look. He also didn't know why they were doing this. He vaguely remembered something about beautiful women, and that was enough for him.

"Because that strange Oracle told us to do it." – reminded the Ranger.

"Yeah, okay! But why?" – demanded Grayson.

"Hell, I don't know! Something about saving the world and being praised by beautiful women." – answered Peter.

Pawl was also worried, but then again he was always worried. He hated being courageous, simply because he didn't know how to act like one. And not knowing how to be courageous could get you killed. Besides… It was his turn of carrying the damn small barrel filled with swamp water, and it was really heavy!

"And money, lads." – added the Dwarf, trying hard not to think that they were walking towards their doom.

Grayson shook his head in disbelief.

"When I hear the word "glory", my mind went numb. I just remember nodding like an idiot and going towards this scary looking Tower. And now that the little guy…" – replied Grayson.

"Hey!" – yelled Pawl, protesting the insult to one of his kin.

Grayson glared angrily at the Dwarf but decided to change his tone. In order to survive in this damn swamp, the group had to maintain united. He also didn't like the idea of having to carry the damn barrel again.

"Sorry! And now that the damn Dwarf is gone, I am starting to have second thoughts about all this heroic business." – concluded the Fighter.

Peter was also having some doubts about all this. Let's face it! He was a Ranger with a bow, but without arrows… That didn't seem the stuff of legends. It seemed more worthy of a comedy written by some drunken Bard.

But he could use the money… And certainly would love to be praised by some beautiful women. And some glory would be nice, too.

"We could always run like cowards, Grayson." – said Peter, looking a bit ashamed as the words left his mouth.

There… he said it. If things went wrong, they could simply run away. No one had told them to sacrifice their lives for the greater good. And running away wasn't that bad… It was way better than dying a horrible and painful death. Sure his pride would certainly be bruised, but what did it know?

"I hate to say this… But that is an option." – admitted the Fighter.

Pawl nodded in agreement. He didn't mind running away from danger. It could even be considered a strategic retreat or something.

"And those silly advices make no sense…" – grumbled the Dwarf.

The three adventures sighed… They all knew that they were walking towards their doom.

Suddenly there were some loud noises coming from behind a bush. Even Peter, that was usually so distracted in his own thoughts and whines, was able to spot that. Grayson took a quick glance towards the bush and knew that someone or something was hiding behind it.

"I bet that it's that strange Dwarf again." – stated the Ranger.

Pawl looked a bit uncertain, but didn't contradict his friend's guess.

"What should we do? Should go there and find out?" – wondered the Fighter, his face full of a nervous sweat.

"Errr… If it was the Oracle, he would have said something!" – offered Pawl.

Peter nodded in agreement. Why would the Oracle be hiding behind a bush? Unless he was desperate to go to the bathroom, it simply made no sense.

The Ranger decided that the smartest move would be to go near the bush and examine it. But Peter knew that he wasn't that smart, so he quickly ignored that idea.

"We could always ask who is behind the bush." – offered Grayson, knowing that it was a stupid idea.

Peter seemed to like that idea, since it was a safer approach. They could always run away if it was a monster. And the Ranger could run pretty fast.

Pawl also agreed with the idea, since he didn't like the prospect of fighting a cruel evil minion.

Then it was settled. They had opted for the stupidest course of action… which wasn't really a surprise, when you thought about it.

"Is there anyone behind the bush?" – yelled Grayson, feeling a bit anxious.

There wasn't an immediate answer, only silence. The bush kept shaking, but no answer came.

The Fighter took a deep breath in relief. If no answer came, then nothing was hiding behind the bush. There was nothing to fear.

"Maybe the monster can't talk, lad." – offered the Dwarf.

And that statement made Grayson lose his nerve. What if it was true? What if the monster didn't know how to speak? He could still be behind the bush and not say anything… Oh, damn, damn!

"Wait a second… Monster? Why a monster? Why can't it be a small and harmless animal?" – questioned the Fighter.

"This be a quest, lad. And everyone knows that there be monsters attacking the brave Heroes during the quest, in order to prevent the Heroes from accomplishing their objective." – explained the Dwarf, as if it was obvious.

Grayson sighed, and tried to think happy thoughts, in order to calm down. He failed miserably.

"What now, then? If the damn thing can't talk, what can we do?" – growled the Fighter.

Peter was thoughtful for a moment or two, trying hard to solve this problem.

"We could teach the monster to talk and wait for an answer." – said Peter, with a joyful smile, thinking that he had found a solution.

Grayson looked confused, but Pawl managed a few quiet laughs.

"How can you breathe and talk at the same time, Peter?" – mocked the Fighter.

Now it was Peter´s turn to be confused.

"You can breathe and talk at the same time?" – inquired the Ranger.

The Fighter showed his friend a sneaky smile and laughed along with Pawl.

"We could always throw a rock at the bush and see what happens." – suggested Peter.

Grayson stopped laughing and nodded in agreement. It was a good solid plan, or at least a plan. The Fighter picked up a rock and was about to throw it at the bush when his mind yelled him to stop. Grayson imagined an angry beast, furious at being hit with a rock, running towards him with murder in its eyes. Don't be daft, man!

"You do it, Peter." – said the Fighter.

The Ranger showed him a panicked look and shook his head.

"Are you mad?" – yelled Peter.

"What?" – demanded Grayson, looking a bit uncertain.

"You throw it! I am the leader and I am ordering you to throw the rock at the possibly lethal beast!" – shouted the Ranger, while pointing at the bush.

The Fighter glared at his friend and then at rock in his hands. It seemed that Peter shared Grayson's line of thought. Ah! That could be a problem then. It would seem that Peter wasn't as dumb as a piece of cheese… But he was still dumber than a drunken Barbarian. The Fighter's face brightened.

"What? Peter? What are you doing?" – questioned Grayson, while showing a mocking smile.

The Ranger couldn't help but feel a bit lost. What the hell was happening? He wasn't doing anything.

The Fighter threw the rock at the bush and a cry was heard. Ah! So there was someone hiding behind the bush!

"Oh, Peter? Why did you throw the rock at the bush?" – lied Grayson.

The Ranger's face was completely blank, but he soon found out the Fighter's plan. Damn… it was a good plan. Why didn't he think of that?

An enormous figure appeared from behind the bush. It was a huge bear of man, wielding a giant of a sword. Grayson's mocking smile quickly turned into a thin line of despair. He wanted to scream in fear, but he couldn't muster the strength to do so.

"Tiffany?" – whispered a frightened Grayson.

The brute Thug glared at the Fighter and pointed his sword at the trio of adventurers. His eyes yelled bloody murder.

"Aye! So we finally meet again, Peter the Ranger!" – growled Tiffany, while giving a cruel laugh.

Peter looked at the strange brute and shrugged. How did the man know his name?

"Who the hell are you?" – asked the Ranger.

"Shut up, lad! Me not talking with ye!" – ordered the Thug.

Now Peter was really confused.

"But you said Peter the Ranger…" – mumbled the Ranger, while looking at his feet.

"Me be talking with that lad there!" – explained Tiffany.

The Thug was pointing towards Grayson, which didn't make any sense.

"Damn…" – squeaked Grayson, remembering that he had lied about his name when the Thug had asked for it.

"And now ye throw a rock at me, Peter! Ye be deserving a good cleave or two in yer gut!" – threatened the Thug.

Grayson picked up his wooden sword, his eyes were moisture with the though of death.

"Oh, damn… How did you find me?" – inquired Grayson.

Tiffany's laugh was pure torture, carrying with it a stench of rotten fish.

"Me asked around, lad… And then, when me found out about yer uncle. Me asked yer silly uncle where yer stinky hide were." – explained the Thug, while walking towards the frightened Fighter.

"Damn! And he told you?" – questioned Grayson.

"Aye, lad! But me had to lie… Me told the bastard that me had a thousand of gold coins to give ye." – added the Thug, while swinging his mean looking sword.

One thing was sure… Peter wasn't following any of this. He was completely lost and confused, trying very hard to follow the dialogue between his friend and the cruel psycho.

But something was greatly troubling the Ranger's mind… Why did the Thug kept saying that he wasn't Peter?

"What? And my uncle believed in you?" – inquired the Ranger, while scratching his head.

The Thug glared cruelly at him, as if he had lost all of his patience.

"Yer uncle? Me talking about Peter´s uncle, the one with a tavern!" – raged Tiffany, while pointing towards the Fighter.

"But that's my uncle!" – said Peter, trying not to yell.

"Huh?" – growled the Thug.

The Ranger looked at his friend, that was trembling a bit, for support and then at the Dwarf, who was strangely quiet, as if he was enjoying the show.

"And I am Peter!" – added the Ranger.

Tiffany's mouth went suddenly open in surprise. Something wasn't right…

The Thug seemed to be thinking really hard, an action that he probably wasn't used to do, judging by the look on his face; it gave the slight impression that his underwear was too tighten.

"Peter the Ranger?" – offered the Thug.

"I even have a bow, for crying out loud!" – argued Peter.

"Aye! But no arrows…" – replied Tiffany.

"That is completely beside the point. I am Peter the Ranger!" – guaranteed the Ranger.

The Thug looked at the two friends and started muttering some curses. Had he been tricked by his Nemesis? Or was he been tricked now by this idiot?

"But… but… The lad said…" – mumbled Tiffany.

Suddenly all of this conversation made sense to Peter. He glared at his so-called best friend and showed him an angry look.

"You told him that your name was Peter the Ranger?" – demanded the Ranger.

"Well…" – murmured Grayson, while gesturing Peter to calm down.

"How could you?" – yelled Peter.

"I…" – grumbled the Fighter.

Tiffany also felt tricked by Grayson. And he hated being tricked… How he hated being tricked!

"Aye! How could ye lie to me, lad? After all we have been through?" – shouted the Thug.

"Shut up, Tiffany!" – stated Grayson, lacking patience for the eccentricity of the Thug.

"And to do such a treacherous deed to a friend…" – added Tiffany.

"Yeah! How could you do such a thing to me?" – asked Peter.

"Actually, me was talking about myself." – pointed out the Thug.

"Shut up, Tiffany!" – growled the Fighter, while jumping up and down in anger.


	30. Swamp Wolves

**Chapter 29; Swamp Wolves **

Peter was shocked. He really was… He couldn't believe in what he had heard.

"Did you just call that man Tiffany?" – questioned Peter, laughing a bit when mentioning the name.

"Aye! That be me name." – answered the Thug, looking a bit hurt because of the laughing.

"By the gods! Are you a woman?" – mocked the Ranger.

The Thug's eyes seemed to shout in hatred. Another funny lad, huh?

"No, ye damn bastard! Me be a man! Me even have a beard!" – explained Tiffany.

The Ranger glared at his friend and winked.

"That is not saying much… Grayson dated hairier women." – added the Ranger, with a joyful smile.

"Hey!" – yelled Grayson, feeling a bit ashamed.

"Well… It's true!" – confirmed Pawl, that had been quiet all this time.

Grayson glared at the Dwarf that simply shrugged and smiled. It was the truth, and the ashamed Fighter knew it.

But the conversation wasn't amusing the cruel Thug.

"Shut up, ye stinky bastards! What be yer name, then, me Nemesis?" – ordered the Thug, after spiting on the ground.

The Fighter knew that he was as good as dead. Even if he lied again, his backstabbing friends would eventually reveal his real name to the Thug. So there were no other options… The truth then.

"Grayson." – said the Fighter, while rolling his eyes.

Tiffany nodded and laughed like a mad hog.

"Grayson… Be prepared to meet yer doom!" – growled the Thug, while showing a cruel and toothless smile.

"Well… Nice knowing you all." – stated Grayson, looking at Peter and Pawl.

The Ranger glared at the Fighter and shrugged.

"I am still angry at you, Grayson." – mumbled Peter.

"Peter… Try to understand! The stress and all that… It made me do stupid things!" – explained the Fighter, feeling a bit guilty.

"Did it now? Like what? Betraying your best friend?" – jested Peter, with sarcastic tones.

Grayson's conscience was kicking his stomach and the guilt was burning his skin. He had betrayed his best friend in order to save his hide. Well… That wasn't the worst part…The worst part was that even though he had betrayed his best friend in order to save his hide, he was still going to die. Even his conscience agreed with that.

"I am sorry!" – begged the Fighter.

Peter showed Grayson a snobbish glare.

"Well…" – mumbled the Ranger, while looking at his feet.

"I don't want to die like this, Peter!" – added Grayson, trying to show his friend that he was really sorry for the lie.

"I don't want to die at all, Grayson." – stated Peter, in a serious tone.

"What I mean is… if I have to die, then I prefer to die with a clean conscience." – concluded the Fighter.

"So that's it? I won't forgive you, Grayson! And I hope you rot in Hell!" – shouted Peter.

"What? Really?" – asked the Fighter, completely surprised by his friend's attitude.

Peter showed his friend a sneaky smile and then shook his head.

"Nah! I forgive you. I would have done the same." – confessed the Ranger.

Grayson gave a deep breath in relief and nodded.

"Oh, chucks! Thanks, Peter! That means a lot to me…"- explained Grayson.

The Thug couldn't believe his own eyes. How could these bastards simply ignore him? He was standing right in front of them, for crying out loud!

"Ye puny people talk too much…" – mocked Tiffany, while swinging his sword.

Grayson sighed and then glared at the Thug.

"Sorry, Tiffany… You can kill us now." – offered the Fighter.

"Yeah! You can kill us three now." – agreed Peter.

Tiffany looked around and then shrugged in confusion.

"Three?" – demanded the Thug.

"Yeah! Me, Grayson and…" – said the Ranger, while looking behind.

Peter saw Grayson, his face full of sweat, and then he turned around to see… Hey! Where was the Dwarf?

"Pawl?" – squeaked the Ranger.

"The little rat ran away!" – yelled Grayson, now understanding why the Pawl had been so quiet; he didn't want to be noticed in order to escape.

"Smart bastard!" – growled the Fighter, while showing an amused smile.

"Why didn't I think of that?" – inquired Peter.

"Because you don't have a brain, Peter…" – jested the Fighter.

The Thug rolled his eyes and then yawned.

"Bah! Me now understands why yer uncle wanted to get rid of ye." – mumbled the bored Thug.

That statement caught the Ranger's attention.

"What?" – demanded Peter.

"Yer uncle was so drunk that ye told me all about yer silly quest. Ye even told me that it be all some kind of a silly plan of his. The swamp, the silly quest… Ah! Swamp water! That be rich!" – mocked the Thug.

Both friends were really surprised by that revelation. Uncle had planned the adventure? What?

"You mean the whole quest idea… was my uncle's idea? All of it?" – asked a surprised Peter, feeling that all of this conversation wasn't making any sense.

"Aye! Yer uncle did a lot of thinking… Ye must be really tired of yer whining, Peter the Ranger." – jested Tiffany.

"I don't whine!" – yelled the Ranger, felling offended.

"Really?" – jested the Thug, knowing full well that Peter was lying.

"Okay! Maybe a little…" – admitted the Ranger, looking a bit hurt.

"A little?" – growled Tiffany.

"A lot…" – added Peter, looking beaten.

The Thug knew that he had won this round. And now… it was time to end the hunt for his Nemesis and his whining friend. And no one would stop him this time!

"Now! Ye will die, lads! Ye first, Grayson, me Nemesis!" – raged Tiffany, his tone of voice showing that he was really anxious to start the killing.

"Oh, well! Let's get this over with!" – said Grayson.

The Fighter knew that this was the end. There were no stupid Knights in shiny armor to save him, nor could he defeat the cruel Thug in a duel. This was the end… This was his doom.

Suddenly, something came to Grayson's mind.

Ah! Actually the first thing that came to the Fighter's mind was that he was feeling a bit thirsty.

But then, he thought about a mysterious advice given by a mad Dwarf.

"When you are about to encounter your doom, you must throw the stick…" – whispered Grayson.

But what did that mean? Should he throw the wooden sword at the Thug? Yeah! Why not? It had worked the last time. Could it be that the advice was really useful? Well… what did he have to lose? Well… besides his life? And if you thought about it, he would lose his life no matter what he did; might as well try to see if the old Dwarf was right.

The Fighter threw the wooden sword at Tiffany, but the Thug was able to dodge the attack, and started laughing in a mocking manner. Damn silly advice!

"Ah! Ye missed!" – stated Tiffany, believing that he was victorious.

The wooden sword flew against a far away bush, and there was a loud thud, followed by a growl.

"What the…" – squeaked the Thug, feeling a bit frightened.

A huge shape appeared from behind the bush. The creature looked quite angry…

"A wolf?" – mumbled Grayson, wondering what was a wolf doing in a swamp.

But Tiffany knew the answer. That beast wasn't an ordinary wolf, no sir. It was a Swamp Wolf, and evil and cruel joke of Mother Nature. It was filthy creature, which loved killing, and to live in swamps: therefore its name.

And it also possessed an unique and powerful hatred towards men that spoke with a funny accent. The Thug relaxed… He didn't have to fear the Swamp Wolf. His accent was perfectly normal.

"Ah! Me not be afraid of a tiny wolf! Me eat wolves like ye for lunch!" – threatened the Thug.

The Swamp Wolf didn't look scared. In fact, it looked quite hungry. How he hated people with funny accents… It pained his ears so much…

"Really?" – asked the Ranger.

"Aye! They be really good with onions and a bit of garlic." – explained Tiffany, ignoring the fact that the Swamp Wolf seemed to become angrier every time he spoke.

"Wow!" – stated Peter.

"Now, shut up, lad! Me have a wolf to kill!" – raged the Thug, while walking towards the Swamp Wolf.

The Swamp Wolf, sensing that his prey was too strong, howled for help. Suddenly more Swamp Wolves appeared from behind the nearby bushes.

"Oh! Ye brought yer family…" – squeaked the Thug.

Ah! Grayson didn't know much about math, but he knew something about cowardice. He was an expert in that area. And the Thug was completely scared of the wolves. And fear could be a powerful weapon, against a murderous man as Tiffany.

And besides… Something wasn't right. The wolves were only paying attention to the Thug, growling every time he spoke a word. They were ignoring Peter and him. The Fighter didn't know why, nor did he really care… The only thing he knew was that he had to keep Tiffany talking.

"That's six wolves, then… I hope that you brought a very big knife, Tiffany." – mocked the Fighter.

The Swamp Wolves started advancing towards the Thug, their stinky mouths full of droll. How they hated people with funny accents… It made them mad, it did.

"Errr…" – mumbled Tiffany, looking at his sword and then at the ferocious Swamp Wolves.

"Because those buggers look quite raw." – added Grayson.

The Swamp Wolves started attacking the Thug, but Tiffany was able to dodge them, losing his enormous weapon in the process.

"Damn you, Grayson…" – murmured the Thug.

But the Fighter didn't fear him. Not now, at least. Not when he had the help of those hungry wolves.

"Yeah, yeah! Say goodbye, Tiffany!" – jested Grayson, waving goodbye.

The Swamp Wolves were caught by surprise by the Thug's agility… But they wouldn't be tricked again… This time they wouldn't fail.

"Hey, doggies! Meat! Go and get it!" – yelled Grayson, pointing towards Tiffany.

The Swamp Wolves jumped at the Thug, but they were too late… Tiffany had run away. He could run pretty fast, even Peter had to admit that.

"Ahhhhhh!" – screamed a frightened Tiffany.

But the Swamp Wolves were persistent… They would get their prey… Sooner or later they always got their prey. The stinky creatures started running after the Thug, his funny accent still echoing in their minds, irritating them. The hunt had begun…

"I will get ye, me Nemesis! Just ye wait and see! Me will be back!" – yelled Tiffany.

"That is what they always say." – mocked Grayson, laughing hysterically.

Wow! He had won. Against all odds he had won. The Fighter looked around and tried his best to regain his posture. He was still alive. Wow!

"So the advice worked?" – questioned Peter, after Grayson calmed down.

"Fantastic, huh?" – said the Fighter.

"Yeah! Well, I can't wait to use mine. How did you know when to follow the advice?" – inquired the Ranger, feeling a bit curious.

"Beats me! I just felt that I should do something." – answered Grayson.

Peter looked around and failed to spot the Dwarf and the barrel full of swap water that he had been carrying. Damn!

"What about Pawl?" – asked Peter, fearing both for his friend and the barrel.

"Well, the little weasel should be okay. He must have run away from the swamp, back to the City. We should probably continue our silly adventure." – stated Grayson, feeling more worried about the barrel filled with swamp water than that damn weasel.

"Silly?" – mumbled Peter.

Grayson sighed. He knew that it would be really hard to tell his friend this, since Peter always wanted to be on a quest, but he had to do it.

"Didn't you hear Tiffany? Your uncle is behind all of this! He did all of this to get rid of you!" – explained Grayson, remembering the Thug's words.

"Well, I don't believe it…" – answered the Ranger, feeling a bit annoyed by the whole idea.

"It makes perfect sense. Who in their right mind would give you a quest? You are an irresponsible idiot, with the intelligence of a sock!" – yelled the Fighter.

"But, but… All of this can't be just a farce! My uncle isn't that bright!" – said Peter, feeling lost.

"What do you mean?" – questioned Grayson.

"I mean asking us to get a bit of swamp water, in order to get us to the swamp and then hiring an old Dwarf to give us mysterious warnings and the all the tales of heroic actions against evil…" - grumbled the Ranger.

"I am telling you, this all quest idea is too stupid to be true." – stated Grayson.

"Yeah! I guess that you are right…" – admitted Peter.

So this was it then? All of this damn adventure was false? Some kind of trick planed by his uncle, in order to force Peter to move on with his life. Wow! The Ranger didn't know if he should punch his uncle on the face or thank him for all the time he spent thinking of this little charade.

"But since your uncle went through all that trouble, I think that we should continue this little theatrical show." – added Grayson.

"Huh?" – asked a surprised Peter.

"This has always been our dream, Peter! We should continue the quest! Let's play pretend! I mean, we know that the quest is fake, just one of your mad uncle's plan. We won't be hurt! How many adventurers can live that kind of adventure?" – questioned the Fighter.

The Ranger nodded in agreement. His uncle would never put his life in danger, so it was a safe adventure. But there was something that was still troubling Peter´s mind.

"But… but… the advice saved your life." – pointed out Peter.

"Bah! Pure coincidence!" – growled Grayson.

"Well… Okay! I guess that you are right! Let's do this!" – agreed the Ranger.

"Yeah!" – yelled the Fighter.

And then they off again, walking towards the Tower, anxious to see what Uncle had prepared for them.

**… **

In the meanwhile, poor Tiffany was still being chased by the hungry Swamp Wolves. Oh, the Thug could run really fast, he was proud of that fact. But he was also getting really tired. He must have been running for hours. His legs were beginning to get numb, his muscles begged for him to stop.

And so he did…

He was too tired. If he had to die a horrible and painful death, so be it.

"Okay, you damn flea bags! Come to Tiffany!" – growled the Thug.

The Swamp Wolves suddenly stopped. They looked a bit afraid. Ah! So they finally understood with whom they were messing with? Ah! Look them in the eyes, and they will cower in fear.

The only strange thing was that they weren't looking at him. They were looking behind him. He ventured a quick glance and spotted a woman wearing a dark armor. She seemed really creepy and… well… evil. It was her eyes… Those dark and soulless eyes, that promised you pain.

"Bu!" – said the woman.

The Swamp Wolves started running away, as fast as they could. Tiffany was truly impressed by such deed. But the Thug didn't fear any woman, no matter how creepy she looked. That would be stupid!

"Who the hell are ye, lass?" – demanded Tiffany, while walking towards the woman.

"You may call me Andrea." – answered the woman.

The woman's armor had a strange image…. Was it a Red Dragon? Bah! Leave it to a girl to ruin such a nice dark armor, with a drawing of a lizard.

"Aye! Me should probably thank ye for saving me hide, huh?" – mocked the Thug, studying the woman's reactions to his sarcastic tone.

"Probably…" – admitted Andrea, while showing an evil smile.

"But instead of doing that, me will cut yer throat!" – growled Tiffany.

The woman wasn't impressed. In fact, she looked really impatient, as if she had no time to waste with such foolishness.

"If you even dare look at me in a funny way… I will kill you." – stated Andrea.

"Huh?" – asked the Thug, while showing his cruel toothless smile.

"I don't fear you, Tiffany." – added the Assassin, while showing the Thug her nasty sword.

"Really?" – jested the Thug, feeling amused.

"But you should fear me…" – concluded Andrea.

"Ah! Why?" – inquired Tiffany, while laughing cruelly.

Andrea rolled her eyes, and then pouched the Thug's face. Tiffany flew against a tree and fell on the ground almost unconscious.

"Ouuchh! That hurt!" – squeaked the Thug.

Andrea looked at the fallen man and then showed him a sneaky grin.

"Consider yourself lucky…" – said Andrea.

"Huh?" – demanded the Thug.

"You are still alive." - explained the Assassin.

"Grrrr! And why be that, lass?" – inquired Tiffany, while straightening himself up.

Andrea seemed thoughtful for a moment, as if she was choosing her words.

"Tiffany… I am about to make you an offer you can't refuse." – stated the Assassin.

Tiffany laughed at that threat. Ah! He could crush that puny woman as if a bug and she dared to threaten him?

"Ah! Me don't fear ye, lass!"- raged the Thug.

Andrea seemed to ignore the statement. Her eyes showed that she really wanted to kill the cruel man, but the fact that he was still alive, proved that she really wanted to talk with him.

"Join me, Tiffany! We could use someone like you." – added Andrea.

"We?" – asked the Thug, feeling a bit curious.

"The Crimson Draco Legion." – explained the Assassin.

Tiffany's face went suddenly white in fear. Oh, no!

"The… the…" – squeaked the Thug, his legs trembling in fear.

"Crimson Draco Legion." – repeated Andrea, feeling amused by the Thug's reaction.

Tiffany's mouth opened a few times, but he said nothing. He was too frightened to say anything. He was silently praying to every gods he knew, asking them for help.

"Please don't kill me…" – begged Tiffany, his eyes almost full of tears.

"I won't… If you accept my proposition." – explained Andrea, while pointing at the Thug.

"Ye want me to join the… the…" – mumbled Tiffany.

Andrea nodded, as if she was confirming the Thug's line of thought.

"Crimson Draco Legion." – concluded the Assassin.

"But those bastards are really evil!" – said Tiffany, looking really nervous.

The Assassin laughed at that comment. As if she didn't know that already?

"Indeed, we are. And you could be one of us." – offered Andrea.

Tiffany seemed a bit suspicious with all of this business, but he couldn't say no to this kind of offer; especially when the wrong answer would result in his death.

"Me accept!" – squeaked the Thug.

Andrea nodded and then laughed; a very cruel and maniacal laugh, worthy of a true Villain.

"Good! Let's go." – said the Assassin.

There was something that was troubling the Thug… He had to know…

"What were ye doing in a stinky swamp like this?" – questioned Tiffany, wondering if the Assassin had followed him to the swamp.

Andrea showed him a cold glare, as if she didn't want to talk about it. But then, the Assassin seemed to calm down.

"See that Tower?" – asked Andrea.

"Aye!" – stated the Thug.

"My brother is the owner of that foul Tower. He is trying to become a Villain." – explained the Assassin.

"Oh! Shouldn't we be helping yer brother then?" – inquired Tiffany.

"What?" – growled Andrea, as if that mere suggestion sickened her.

The Thug gestured the Assassin to calm down, which she did.

"There be some adventurers going in that direction!" – said Tiffany.

That statement surprised Andrea that had failed to spot any intruders besides the enormous Thug.

"What? Towards my little brother's Tower of Doom?" – questioned the Assassin.

"Aye!" – confirmed the Thug, looking worried.

"Really? And are they dangerous?" – demanded Andrea, her eyes reflecting the purest of evil intentions.

Tiffany didn't know what to say. The lads were a bit dumb, but he had been defeated twice by his Nemesis. He decided to lie a bit…

"Aye!" – lied the Thug, not wanting to cause a bad impression to the Assassin.

Andrea seemed to digest the answer, and then she smiled wickedly.

"Will they ruin my brother's plan?" – asked the Assassin,

"Aye! They even ruined me evil plan!" – admitted Tiffany, not knowing what more was expected from him.

"That is good." – said Andrea.

Tiffany couldn't believe his hears. Something wasn't right here…

"Huh?" – squeaked the Thug.

"Let them put a stop to my little brother's dreams… If I am lucky, they will even kill the pathetic creature." – mocked the Assassin, her smile cold as winter.

"But… but… ye be yer brother!" – mumbled Tiffany, feeling a bit lost.

"So?" – demanded Andrea, failing to see the Thug's logic.

"Wow! Ye be really evil, lass!" – said Tiffany, feeling a bit frightened by the whole idea.

The Assassin looked at her new partner and then at the dark Tower of Doom, that her brother had acquired. She would have had to kill her brother eventually… She couldn't let him become too powerful. If the adventurers were going to save her he trouble, why should she worry about it?

"It's not personal. It's strictly business." – whispered Andrea.


	31. The Trap

**Chapter 30; The Trap**

"What are we doing out here in the swamp, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer, feeling a bit nauseated by the swamp's smells.

The Imp sighed. He was beginning to pity his Master's stupidity. Even the damn pony was smarter than that idiot of a Wizard. The fiend glared at the pony, and had to control a sudden urge to kill the damn creature. The Imp hated cute animals such as this damn pony… They reminded him that he wasn't cute.

"We have to prepare some kind of trap for the Heroes." – reminded the fiend, while glaring at the army of Zombies that were standing near the Tower of Doom.

"We have?" – inquired the Necromancer, feeling a bit lost.

The Imp cursed his bad luck and took a deep breath.

"Of course. The Heroes are expecting that from us." – explained the Imp.

Villains plot against the good guys. That's what is expected of them. If the Heroes arrived at the Tower of Doom, without facing dangers and traps, then they would think that the Villain was a weak foe. A weak Villain wasn't respected, and respect was very important for a Villain… especially if the Villain wanted the Hero to remember his name when the silly good guy told his adventures to others (usually drinking companions).

"Expected? The Heroes expect us to prepare some kind of trap?" – asked the Wizard, feeling a bit incredulous.

"Yes." – answered the fiend, while rolling his eyes.

"But… if they expect a trap, will it be effective?" – offered the Necromancer.

"It doesn't have to be effective! It just has to be scary and evil, so that the Heroes know that they are dealing with a really evil and mean Villain!" – explained the Imp, feeling a bit disappointed for the lack of common sense in his Master's head.

"Oh! But isn't that… I don't know… a bit stupid?" – added the Wizard, while scratching his chin.

That ridiculous comment was the last straw for the evil fiend.

"Don't mock tradition! Never mock tradition! Being a Villain isn't just a job..." – growled the Imp, feeling hurt by his Master's words.

"What?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"It's what you are, Master." – explained the Imp.

The Wizard shrugged, as if he didn't understand his Familiar's point.

"But we are wasting precious time preparing a silly trap that isn't going to work because the Heroes are expecting us to do exactly that!" – stated the Necromancer, failing to see the Imp's logic.

"Your point?" – demanded the Imp, showing an evil smile.

They were evil bastards, cruel beings, servants of Darkness... They had to do evil deeds, simply because people, namely the Heroes, expected that from them. If not, they would be no better than common monsters. Of course, cruel and evil Villains liked doing evil deeds, but that was beside the point. They did it simply because it was a matter of style: Villains had to do evil deeds.

"Oh!" – squeaked the Wizard, words failing him.

"By the way… Wasting precious time? Are you cooking something?" – mocked the fiend.

"No…" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"Are you going out tonight?" – continued the Imp.

"No…" – repeated the Wizard, looking a bit ashamed.

"Are you writing a book?" – added the Familiar.

"No…" – admitted the Necromancer, feeling defeated.

"So we aren't really wasting precious time, are we?" – concluded the Imp.

"No…" – murmured the Wizard.

"Then again, I did waste my precious time explaining this to you!" – yelled the fiend, his eyes darkening with rage.

"Sorry!" – begged the Wizard, gesturing for his Familiar to calm down.

The Necromancer couldn't help but think that maybe he wasn't truly in charge here.

Bah! That's just silly!

"Just read the damn books I gave you" – ordered the Imp.

"But…" – squeaked the Wizard.

"No buts. Just read them!" – growled the fiend, while showing his fangs.

The Necromancer was speechless for a moment.

"Can't I just pay a Bard to write me a brief summary of those books?" – asked the Wizard.

"What?" – shouted the Imp.

"There is a whole book about the maniacal laughter, Imp." – explained the Necromancer.

"Very important for the Villain, the maniacal laughter." – said the fiend, while nodding.

"The book has four hundred pages…" – mumbled the Wizard, knowing that his efforts were futile.

"Extremely important." – added the Imp, that thought that the maniacal laughter was the best part of being a Villain.

The Wizard looked sadly at his Familiar and nodded in agreement. What else could he do?

"Oh, well… What's the plan, then?" – grumbled the Necromancer, wanting to change the topic of the conversation.

"Plan?" – inquired the Imp, distracted by the thoughts of murdering his Master while he slept.

"For the trap." – reminded the Wizard.

The Imp shrugged.

"How should I know?" – growled the fiend.

"May I give you a suggestion, old chap?"

The Imp looked at the stinky Zombie that was behind him. It was that Zombie Lawyer freak… The Imp assumed that he was the leader of the Undead, since he was the only one that could speak… Well the others could also speak. But the only thing that they could say was: "Brains… Brains… Brains…". So this Zombie Lawyer was the only Undead that could speak properly… unfortunately. The guy was as boring as a lawful Paladin and as stinky as sweaty socks.

"Does it involve you being eaten by a pack of rabid Swamp Wolves?" – mocked the Imp, not hiding his hatred towards the Zombie Lawyer.

"By the gods, lad, of course not!" – answered the Zombie Lawyer, showing an optimistic smile.

"Then I don't want to hear it." – growled the fiend, while spiting on the ground.

"Swamp Wolves?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Furry little creatures, the Swamp Wolves. They are almost poetic." – stated the Zombie Lawyer, while nodding.

"Poetic?" – joked the Imp.

"Well… Pathetic creatures seemed rather harsh." – admitted the Zombie Lawyer, feeling a bit annoyed by the evil creature's cold stare.

"Pathetic? Why?" – asked the curious Wizard.

"Oh, dear! What do they teach you lads these days?" – wondered the Zombie Lawyer, while rolling his eyes.

"That we should never fart when we are with a girl." – answered the Necromancer automatically.

The Zombie Lawyer was surprised with the answer.

"Sage advice, that." – said the Undead.

"Yes, I think so." – agreed the Imp, with a sarcastic smile.

"So that's what I have been doing wrong for all these years… I thought that it was the bad breath, see?" – added the Zombie Lawyer, while laughing.


	32. Deus ex machina

**Chapter 31; Deus ex machina**

The Wizard and his Familiar were feeling a mixture of amazement and horror.

"Oh?" – squeaked the Necromancer, feeling discomforted with the sudden revelation.

"I didn't have to know that…" – raged the Imp, while trying his best not to puke.

"What were you saying about Swamp Wolves?" – begged the Wizard, in order to change the topic, knowing that this disgusting conversation would never be truly forgotten.

"What? Ah, yes! Swamp Wolves… You see, lad. Every creature in this fine land has a purpose. And, yes, even Swamp Wolves have a purpose. Even politicians have one, though they pretend that they don't. But the Swamp Wolf's purpose is a very useless one." – continued the Zombie Lawyer.

"Oh!" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"Their purpose in life is to hunt down every person that speaks with a funny accent." – concluded the Undead, while winking at the Wizard.

"What?" – asked the Necromancer, completely caught by surprise by that revelation.

"Makes perfect sense to me. People with funny accents should be all killed! They are a plague upon this land!" – yelled the Imp.

"Why?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Because they have funny accents." – reminded the fiend, as if that reason alone was enough to justify his opinion.

The Zombie Lawyer coughed a bit and shrugged.

"As I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted…" – growled the Lawyer Zombie, while glaring at the Imp.

"I hate you!"- raged the Imp, while showing his sharp teeth.

"Swamp Wolves are the perfect example of the gods' crazy sense of humour." – continued the Undead, trying his best to ignore the fiend.

"Why?" – asked the Necromancer.

"For starters, they live in swamps." – stated the Zombie Lawyer.

"So?" – inquired the Wizard, not seeing the Undead´s point.

"Not many folks with funny accents in swamps." – explained the Zombie Lawyer.

"Bah! That's because the Swamp Wolves killed them all!" – growled the Imp.

The Undead gestured for the fiend to shut up.

"Actually… There aren't many folks at all." – mocked the Zombie Lawyer.

"They moved to the cities looking for better job conditions! Everyone knows that!" – yelled the Imp.

"So be it… That argument even supports my logic." – added the Undead, while showing a bright smile.

"What? It does?" – mumbled the fiend, caught by surprise by the Zombie Lawyer's words.

"Yes." – answered the Undead.

"Then forget it! If it supports your illogical logic, then it must be stupid." – raged the fiend.

"Must I remind you, old chap, that they were your own words?" – growled the Zombie Lawyer, that was starting to lose all of his patience.

"It was probably temporary insanity!" – mocked the Imp.

"Temporary sanity, more likely." – corrected the Undead.

"I can bite you, you know?" – threatened the fiend.

"Sure. And my rotten flesh can give you a terrible and painful indigestion." – reminded the Zombie Lawyer.

The Imp examined the Undead´s rotten flesh and nodded in agreement.

"Good point. Carry on." – murmured the fiend.

"Thank you. So… swamps aren't a very popular choice for a home. I mean besides the vicious monsters and evil Villains…" – continued the Undead.

"That's me." – said the Necromancer with enthusiasm.

"Who in their right mind would want to live in this dump?" – concluded the Zombie Lawyer.

"Swamp. This isn't a dump. It's a swamp." – corrected the Necromancer.

The Zombie Lawyer glared curiously at the Wizard and then nodded.

"You, my lad, are a simpleton." – stated the Undead.

"Thanks!" – said the Wizard, with a smile in his face.

"Yes… I see…" – mumbled the Zombie Lawyer, trying his best not to laugh at the lad's stupidity.

"He is more than a simpleton… He is a damn idiot!" – growled the Imp.

"Oh, that Imp! He is such a kidder!" – said the Wizard, while laughing.

"Oh, I should just bite your nose off and…" – threatened the fiend.

"I am sorry for my bluntness, but I must beg you to shut up." – demanded the Undead.

There was a sudden silence.

"May I continue?" – asked the Zombie Lawyer.

The Necromancer and the Imp exchanged glances, and nodded.

"You may." – growled the Imp.

"Swamps are therefore an unlikely location to find… well… people with funny accents." – continued the Undead.

"Yes, you already said that." – mocked the fiend.

"Swamp Wolves, I remind you, specialize in eating people with funny accents. Even though Swamp Wolves can't think straight, some Druids would even add that they are dumber than rocks, these creatures are able to distinguish between accents. They are able to distinguish accents and to judge which ones are "normal" and which ones are "funny". And this takes us back to my first observation… Swamp Wolves practise their hunt in swamps." – stated the Undead.

"Oh! So?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Can't you see the irony?" – asked the Zombie Lawyer.

"No…" – answered the Wizard, that failed to see the logic of the Undead´s words.

"I mean… There aren't people with funny accents living in swamps…" – pointed out the Zombie Lawyer.

"Bah!" – raged the Imp.

"Indeed… such a tragic creature, the Swamp Wolf…" – said the Undead, with sad tones.

"But why tragic, then? Their purpose in life seems more comical than tragic." – demanded the Wizard.

"Swamp Wolves don't live for very long… They usually die after a month or two." – explained the Undead.

"Why?" – asked the Necromancer, pitting the poor creatures.

"From hunger." – answered the Zombie Lawyer.

"But… Why aren't they extinct then?" – questioned the Wizard.

"Ah! That's an easy one… They breed like rabbits." – continued the Undead.

"So?" – demanded the Necromancer.

"You do know what breeding is, right?" – inquired the Zombie Lawyer.

There was an uneasy silence.

"Sure." – lied the Wizard.

"And do you know what results from that action?" – asked the Undead.

"Bread?" – answered the Necromancer.

"No, no… Little Swamp Wolves." – corrected the Zombie Lawyer.

"Oh! That kind of breeding! I knew that!" – said the Wizard, trying his best to hide his shame.

"You should definitely read the books that I gave you." – advised the Imp.

"Look! I know what breeding is. I am not that stupid!" – lied the Wizard.

"Anyway… Swamp Wolves continue to exist, even though Logic screams that it doesn't make any kind of sense." – concluded the Undead.

The Necromancer looked thoughtful for a moment, and then showed a bright smile, as if he had figured everything out.

"What if…" – said the Wizard.

"Yes?" – asked the Undead.

"What if the Swamp Wolves existence was due only to some kind of weird reason, such as the gods' way of sorting out Destiny?" – added the Necromancer.

"You mean that the Swamp Wolves purpose, which is hunting people with funny accents, could be indeed useful in terms of a weird divine scheme?" – asked the Zombie Lawyer.

"Hunting bastards with funny accents is a very noble deed!" – growled the Imp.

"Yes." – stated the Wizard.

"Such as?" – demanded the Undead.

"Well… Let's try a hypothetically reason… such as the Swamp Wolves being created in order to save a pair of adventures from a bully with a funny accent?" – answered the Necromancer.

"You mean that the gods would create such a species only to save a pair of losers from some sort of thug?" – mocked the fiend.

"That is one hell of a "Deus ex machina"." – said the Undead, agreeing with the fiend.

"A what?" – asked the Wizard.

"It's a phrase that is used to describe an unexpected or improbable event introduced suddenly in a work of fiction or drama to resolve a situation or untangle a plot." – explained the Zombie Lawyer.

"Oh! I thought that it was some kind offoreign food." – squeacked the Wizard.

"No…" – stated the Undead.

"You have been eating soap again, haven't´ you?" – demanded the fiend.

"Well… yes… but that has nothing to do with it!" – said the Wizard.

"Sure, sure…" – mocked the Imp.

"Of course, lad…" – lied the Zombie Lawyer.

The Zombie Lawyer shrugged, words failing him.

"But, as your friend…" – said the Undead.

"Familiar." – corrected the Imp, feeling a bit disgusted by the word used by the Zombie Lawyer.

"Oh! You are related?" – asked the Undead.

"It's a Wizard's thing. Don't try to understand." – mocked the Imp.

"I do hope that this pathetic creature isn't your son or something." – stated the Zombie Lawyer.

"No, he isn't." – answered the Imp, while showing an evil smile.

"I was talking with him." – said the Undead, while pointing towards the Necromancer.

"How I hate you…" – growled the Imp, rage burning in his eyes.

"Imp isn't my son. But I consider him the younger brother that I never had!" – explained the Wizard, while patting his Familiar.

"What? I am one thousand years old! How could I ever be your younger brother?" – yelled the Imp, while trying to bite the Necromancer's hand.

"He is so grumpy, isn't he?" – joked the Wizard.

"Terribly grumpy, yes." – agreed the Undead.

"Shut up!" – demanded the Imp.

"But I love him, nonetheless." – added the Necromancer.

"And further more… You love me?" – squeaked the fiend, feeling nauseated by that dreadful word.

"Why, yes, Imp. To me you are more than a mere fiend… You are my best friend!" – stated the Wizard, while showing a bright and friendly smile.

"That is… That is so…" – mumbled the Imp, the words failing him.

"Yes?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Stupid." – concluded the Familiar.

"Oh?" – mumbled the disappointed Wizard.

"And if I may add… a bit creepy." – whispered the Imp.

"Well… I thought that it was touching." – said the Zombie Lawyer.

"Well… You are a Zombie Lawyer. No one cares about your opinion." – mocked the fiend, while giving a cruel laugh.

The Undead glared angrily at the fiend that was still laughing.

"That is discrimination! The fact that I am an Undead and/ or a Lawyer doesn't give you the right to disrespect me!" – growled the Undead, feeling hurt by those mean words.

"Well… It sucks to be you." – added the Imp, with a nasty smile.

The Zombie Lawyer wanted to punch the evil creature on the face. But he was civilized. And civilized people didn't act like barbarians. He calmed himself down and then shrugged as if the whole matter was suddenly forgotten.

Fun was fun, but they had to be fully prepared to welcome the silly Heroes. The Imp looked at the Zombie army and then nodded. They would have to do as his Master's evil minions, even though they were mindless and stinky buggers. The fiend could only hope that the Heroes wouldn't be disappointed with such stupid and filthy foes.

"Look… Zombie guy… start gathering your fellow Zombies and prepare yourselves." – ordered the fiend.

"Prepare ourselves? For what?" – inquired the Undead.

"We need you to take care of some adventurers." – growled the Imp.

"Oh! The lads were complaining that they were a bit hungry." – stated the Zombie Lawyer, while liking his lips.

"Good, good! You will have some nice yummy brains in no time." – joked the Imp.

"Jolly good, then!" – said the Undead.

"Just go!" – ordered the fiend.

The Zombie Lawyer nodded in agreement and started walking towards the other Zombies.

"Now…About the trap… I just remembered something that might help us." – explained the Imp.

"What?" – asked the Wizard, trying his best to be supportive.

"I have a magical potion…" – added the fiend, while showing a mysterious potion that magically appeared in one of his hand.

"Yes?" – inquired the Necromancer, while studying the potion.

"It is a "Quicksand" Potion!" – stated the fiend, while showing an evil grin.

"A what?" – demanded the Wizard.

The Imp read the instructions that were on the flask.

"Basically it magically creates quicksand." – explained the fiend.

"Really? But we are in a swamp…" – said the Wizard, while looking around.

Yes… They were definitely in a swamp.

"Yes… A perfect plan. The Heroes won't be expecting it." – added the Imp, surprised by his brilliant sneaky plan.

"Quicksand in a swamp?" – asked the Necromancer, feeling a bit confused.

"It's pure genius!" – growled the Imp.

"How did you acquire that potion?" – demanded the Necromancer, knowing that he hadn't given it to his Familiar.

"A strange and old Dwarf sold me the potion." – explained the Imp, while examining the potion.

"What? What Dwarf?" – asked the Wizard.

"I met him in the City of Neverending, while we were on that disgusting Tavern." – told the fiend.

"The Red Dragon Tavern?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Yeah! It cost me ten gold coins, it did. I hope it works." – mumbled the Imp.

"What? Ten gold coins? Such magical potion should be a lot more expensive." – said the Wizard, feeling a bit betrayed by his Familiar, since the Imp had decided to resort to someone else's Magic.

"The stinky Dwarf told me that he needed the money to pay his landlord or something." – raged the Imp, not liking the interrogation.

"Then why didn't he ask you for more money? It doesn't make any kind of sense." – stated the Necromancer, sensing that something was wrong.

But the Imp didn't care for his Master's thoughts. This was his moment of glory! No one, not even his own Master would stop him from becoming more powerful. His plan was perfect! Completely flawless! Who cares about that silly Dwarf that mysteriously appeared besides him? Then only thing that matters is the magical potion. If what the Dwarf told the Imp was true… then no Hero would be able to spot this darkest of tricks.

"Bah! Leave the thinking to me, Master!" – threatened the Imp.

The Wizard shrugged and decided to shut up. The Imp was acting a bit weird again, and he was always extremely violent during those times.

The Imp read the potion's instructions and nodded. He only needed to shake the potion and to spill the liquid on the ground. Easy as making a cockatrice pie!

The evil fiend followed the instructions and shook the potion. The liquid inside started to cast a bright yellow light. Well… it seemed right. It was a magical potion. The Imp spilled the liquid on the ground, which after a few seconds was turned into quicksand.

"It works! It works!" – yelled the Imp.

"Wow! I can't believe it!" – confessed the Wizard.

The Imp glared at the potion and threw it away, towards some bushes.

"What? There was still a bit of liquid there!" – stated the Necromancer.

"We don't need the potion anymore. The trap has been set." – growled the Imp.

The Necromancer sighed, and then nodded.

"But what if the Zombies walk right into the quicksand?" – asked the Necromancer, while glaring at some of his Undead minions that were looking hungrily at the pony.

"What?" – raged the fiend.

"It could happen. They don't seem very bright." – explained the Necromancer.

"Actually I am more worried about you…" – mumbled the Imp.

"Huh?" – demanded the Wizard, not understanding his Familiar's comment.

"If I leave you alone for a minute, I bet that you will walk right towards the quicksand." – stated the evil fiend, while showing a dark grin.

The Necromancer looked offended.

"I would never do that!" – yelled the Wizard.

"Right… I better put on a warning sign." – mocked the Imp.

"A warning sign? Won't the Heroes spot the ambush then?" – asked the Wizard.

"What? No!" - assured the Imp.

"Why not?" – demanded the Necromancer, failing to understand his Familiar's plan.

"Because the Heroes will think that we are lying. I man… quicksand on a swamp?" – stated the Imp, while pointing towards the trap.

"Actually… It makes sense…" – admitted the Necromancer, feeling humiliated.

"I know." – said the evil Familiar.

His dark plan was in motion. No one could stop him this time! Not even those silly good for nothing meddling bastards, also known as Heroes.

"Now! Give the maniacal laugh!" – ordered the Imp.

"Hey! It's your evil plan!" – squeaked the Necromancer.

"Huh? Well… You are right! I should give the maniacal laugh!" – agreed the Imp.

The fiend stopped flying and landed on top of a muddy ground, not far away from the quicksand. But he didn't care about that… Nothing would ruin this perfect evil moment! This was going to be his moment of glory!

"Muah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" – laughed the Imp, his maniacal laughter echoing through out the swamp.

"You know… That isn't mud…" – explained the Necromancer, trying very hard not to grin.

The Imp glared to the ground and then sighed. The perfect evil moment was ruined… Stupid swamp.

"I hate you so much…" – growled the Imp, while looking at his Master.


	33. Mr Ash and his Associates

**Chapter 32; Mr. Ash and his Associates **

Peter and Grayson were standing right in front of the Tower of Doom, looking a bit worried. The building was mysterious and very, very frightening. There was something that could only be described as unnatural about it.

"Wow! Has this Tower always been here?" – asked Peter.

His friend, Grayson, shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't know… I doubt that your uncle would waste his money on building it, though." – said the Fighter.

"It's a bit scary, huh?" – asked the Ranger.

"It's just a building, Peter." – reminded Grayson, trying his best not to wet his pants.

"A scary looking building…" – added Peter.

"Peter! Do I have to remember you that this… this damn quest… is fake?" – inquired the Fighter.

"Huh?" – mumbled the Ranger.

"Tiffany told us that your uncle planed the whole quest thing. Remember?" – explained Grayson.

"Well… Yeah! I just can't believe that. It doesn't make any kind of sense." – said Peter.

"Well, I don't care. Maybe your uncle was bored or something, but nevertheless he is responsible for this. He just wanted you to get out and see the world… that kind of stuff." – stated the Fighter.

"He could have simply asked me to go buy some bread at the baker's shop." – mocked Peter.

"You are missing the point, Peter." – grumbled Grayson.

"It seems a lot cheaper, than plotting a quest and hiring people to trick us." – added the Ranger.

"Look! You are missing the point! The point is that we know that this is all a farce!" – yelled Grayson.

"I guess that you are right…" – agreed Peter.

"I am always right, Peter." – remarked the Fighter.

"Well…" – murmured the Ranger.

"Well what?" – demanded Grayson.

"There was that time that you drank the poison that my uncle was going to use on those mean looking rodents that were plaguing our kitchen." – reminded Peter.

"Hey! I thought that it was a bottle of ale!" – growled the Fighter, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"It was a green liquid, Grayson…" – mocked the Ranger.

"It could have been a new type of ale!" – offered Grayson.

"The bottle had a skull painted on it…" – added Peter, while rolling his eyes.

"I thought that it was a new brand!" – raged the Fighter.

"And there was that sign over it saying "Danger! Poison!"…" – continued the Ranger with a bright smile.

"I thought that your uncle was playing a joke!" – explained Grayson.

"But other than that particular case… I guess that you are always right." – admitted Peter.

Grayson took a deep breath, and tried his best to erase the last conversation from his mind. He failed, of course. He needed to drink at least four ales in order to forget about it… and there wasn't a tavern in this horrible swamp. Damn!

"Thank you!" – said the Fighter.

"If you don't count the time that you accidentally burned down your own house." – added the Ranger.

"What?" – shouted Grayson.

"Well… You know… You were trying to go to the bathroom, and it was quite late and dark… So you picked up a candle, and you fell down the stairs… And seconds later your whole house was on fire." - reminded Peter.

"I…" – squeaked the Fighter, praying to every gods for Peter to shut up.

"But other than that… You are always right." – concluded the Ranger.

"Are you finished?" – inquired Grayson.

"Actually… no." – admitted Peter.

That was the last straw…

"Shut up, Peter!" - yelled the Fighter.

"Excuse me, old chap…"

Grayson and Peter exchanged glances and then looked behind them. A huge army of Undead was standing there. The Ranger cried in horror and Grayson almost fainted.

"Oh, by the gods…" – squeaked the Fighter, his legs feeling suddenly very numb.

"Oh, boy!" – cried Peter.

One of the Undead stepped forward and bowed before the two friends. He was some kind of Zombie, with a very neat suit. The suit was stylish and proper… it was the rotten flesh and horrible stench that made you want to puke.

"I am terribly sorry for disturbing you… Oh, where are my manners? My name is Mr. Ash. And these folks behind me are my associates. Say hello, mates." – said the Zombie.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled Mr. Ash's associates.

"Errr…" – mumbled Grayson.

"As I was saying… sorry for disturbing you but, you see, we have mission to accomplish." – explained Mr. Ash.

" Mission?" – inquired the Fighter, while slowly backing away from the Zombie.

"Are you some kind of a Secret Agent?" – asked the Ranger, hiding behind Grayson.

"No, my lad. I am a Lawyer." – answered Mr. Ash.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" – yelled Peter, completely horrified by that dark revelation.

"Peter! Control yourself!" – demanded Grayson.

"No, don't worry! I get that a lot!" – admitted Mr. Ash.

"What is your mission, Mr. Ash?" – questioned the Fighter.

The Zombie Lawyer scratched his chin and then nodded.

"My mission is to… How shall I put it? We have to take care of some adventurers." – explained Mr. Ash.

"Adventurers?" – squeaked Peter.

"Take care of?" – mumbled the Fighter.

"Do you follow my reasoning, old chap?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"No…" – answered Grayson.

"Does it involve custard?" – inquired Peter.

"No, my lad… It may involve a bit of olive oil." – explained Mr. Ash.

"Huh?" – asked Grayson.

"Me and my associates like olive oil. It makes the brains taste way better." – added Mr. Ash.

"Brains?" – mumbled the Fighter.

"Wait… you are Zombies, right?" – said Peter.

The Zombie Lawyer nodded in confirmation.

"Indeed we are." – answered Mr. Ash.

"Then that means…" – whispered the Ranger.

"Indeed." – said Mr. Ash, while licking his lips.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" - growled Mr. Ash's associates.

"Oh, damn…" – squeaked Peter.

"Well… I guess that you will be disappointment…" – mocked Grayson, while looking at his friend.

"Why is that, old chap?" – demanded Mr. Ash.

"Your meal isn't going to be that great." – explained the Fighter.

"Oh, don't worry about that! We still have some leftovers from yesterday's dinner." – stated Mr. Ash.

"May I talk with my friend for a moment?" – asked Grayson.

"Well…" – growled Mr. Ash.

"Please?" – begged Grayson.

"Oh, I can't say no, since you asked in such a polite manner. Carry on, then!" – said Mr. Ash.

"Thanks!" – mumbled Grayson.

"No worries!" – assured Mr. Ash.

The Fighter went over to Peter and showed him a sneaky smile. The two friends moved a bit away from the Undead army, in order not be heard by the Zombie Lawyer.

"Those costumes are so fake, huh?" – lied Grayson.

"Yeah! They didn't fool me for a minute!" – lied Peter.

"What should we do?" – asked the Fighter.

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment and then showed his friend a bright smile. He had a plan!

"Follow my lead!" – ordered the Ranger.

"What?" – demanded the Fighter.

The two adventurers approached the Zombie Lawyer. Peter was smiling that stupid optimistic smile of his, as if he knew that his plan was going to work. Grayson didn't seem to share his friend's optimism, and was looking a bit worried.

"Okay! We are ready to be eaten by your associates." – said Peter.

"Oh, jolly good! You are a good sport!" – stated Mr. Ash.

"Too bad… it is going to be very hard for the government to replace us." – added the Ranger.

"Huh?" – murmured Grayson, caught by surprise by Peter's statement..

"I am sorry, old chap?" –inquired Mr. Ash.

"Well… us being Tax Collectors and all." – lied the Ranger.

"I am sorry… did you say Tax Collectors?" - demanded Mr. Ash.

"Yes. Why?" – asked Peter.

"But aren't you… adventurers?" – growled Mr. Ash.

"What? Me and Grayson? Adventurers?" – asked Peter, while laughing.

"Errr…" – mumbled Grayson, fearing that his friend had finally lost it.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" – laughed Peter.

"Well… Yes… The Master told me that some adventurers were on this way…" – explained Mr. Ash.

"By the gods, no! I am not an adventurer!" – said the Ranger.

"Neither am I." - added Grayson, feeling a bit lost.

"But…" – whispered Mr. Ash.

"Look! I have only a bow… and no arrows. Just to scare those damn peasants that want to club us!" – said Peter.

"Well… it is a bit stupid to carry a bow and no arrows… it isn't very heroic…" – admitted Mr. Ash.

"See? We are just humble Tax Collectors." – said the Ranger.

"But… but…" – squeaked Mr. Ash.

"Well… anyway… Carry on, my good man! I am sure that the Mayor will find someone to replace me and my partner. It should only take maybe a year or two… maybe more." – added Peter.

"What? No, no! I can't eat someone that works for a government!" – stated Mr. Ash.

"Really?" – asked Peter, feeling relieved.

"Because we are useful?" – inquired Grayson.

"No! Because you taste like woodworm, pardon my bluntness." – explained Mr. Ash.

"What? I don't taste like a woodworm!" – yelled Peter, feeling insulted.

"Shut up, Peter!" – ordered Grayson.

"And you could always use a bit of garlic, in order to make us tastier!" – stated Peter.

"Well… I hadn't thought of that." – admitted Mr. Ash.

"Shut up, Peter!" – yelled the Fighter.

"And maybe a bit of salt?" – suggested the Ranger, while looking at his backpack that was full of salt.

"Oh! Yes! We like salt! Don't we, chaps?" – said Mr. Ash.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled Mr. Ash's associates.

The Ranger showed a confuse look.

"Is that a yes?" – asked Peter.

"Quite frankly… I don't know…" – whispered Mr. Ash.

"Peter! Shut up!" – growled Grayson.

"Grayson! Show some manners! I am talking with this nice Zombie…" – said Peter.

"Mr. Ash." – reminded the Zombie Lawyer.

"Right! Mr. Ash. So please try to be more polite." – ordered the Ranger.

"Can… you… please… shut… up?" – begged the Fighter.

"Okay!" – said Peter.

"Well, lads, I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience… but the chaps are getting hungrier by the minute." – explained Mr. Ash.

"But we aren't adventurers!" – reminded Grayson.

"Well… You can always be the appetizers." – mocked Mr. Ash.

"Wait a second! Isn't killing government officials against the Law?" – asked Peter.

"What?" – growled Mr. Ash.

"You are a Lawyer! You can't eat us! You would be breaking the Law!" – reminded the Ranger.

"Oh, my!" – squeaked Mr. Ash.

"Hey! Peter does have a point." – agreed the Fighter.

"Damn… I guess that you are right." – said Mr. Ash.

"Really?" – asked Peter.

"Nah! I was just kidding with you!" – mocked Mr. Ash.

"Huh?" – asked Peter.

"There is nothing that prohibits a Zombie from eating the brains of government officials." – explained Mr. Ash.

"Not even the Law?" – inquired Grayson.

"No… not even the Law." – growled Mr. Ash.

"But… but… How can that be?" – questioned Grayson.

"Well, lad… Most of the laws were written by Zombie Lawyers such as me. And do you really think that they would come up with laws against Zombies eating people?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"Errr…That makes sense…" – mumbled Peter.

The Zombie Lawyer nodded in agreement and showed the two friend a friendly grin.

"So… I will just get my spoon… one moment, lads!" – begged Mr. Ash, while searching his pockets.

"What now?" – cried Grayson.

"This is getting boring… Let's get rid of these losers." – whispered Peter.

"But how?" – asked the Fighter.

"While you were arguing with Mr. Ash, I… that is to say, your wise Leader… thought of a plan." – explained Peter.

"Another one?" – inquired Grayson.

"Yeah!" – confirmed the Ranger.

"So? Are you going to suggest a new recipe in order for these guys to cook us? Maybe they should add some onions or carrots?" – mocked the Fighter.

"Just watch!" – stated Peter, ignoring his friend's sarcasm.

Peter knew that he could be a very convincing liar. But he was facing a Lawyer, a Master of Deception and Manipulation. He had to be extremely careful, and use all of his creativity in this lie.

"Look! Mr. Ash! Over there! The adventurers!" – yelled the Ranger.

"Huh?" – growled Mr. Ash.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled Mr. Ash's associates.

Grayson sighed. That was it? That was his "wise" Leader's plan? Okay! This was it… they were both doomed.

"Where?" – demanded Mr. Ash, looking a bit incredulous.

"They went that way!" – lied Peter.

"What? That way?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"Yeah!" – confirmed Peter.

"The one that has a sign?" – inquired Mr. Ash.

"Errr… Yeah!" – squeaked Peter, that had not noticed the sign.

"A sign that clearly states: "Watch out for quicksand!"?" – questioned Mr. Ash.

"Well… I mean… I…" – mumbled Peter.

"That way?" – repeated Mr. Ash.

"Yes?" – offered the Ranger.

The Zombie Lawyer stood still for a moment and then shrugged.

"Okay, then! Let's go, chaps!" – ordered Mr. Ash.

Mr. Ash's associates growled in unison and started walking after the adventures.

"Oh! We will return shortly! Please don't go away!" – said Mr. Ash.

"Oh? What? Us? Never!" – assured Grayson.

"And miss the opportunity of having my brain being eaten by Zombies? Not a chance!" – added Peter.

"Good lads!" – stated Mr. Ash.

The Undead army was hungry. They were always hungry. They wanted to taste the sweet flesh of those adventurers. They would save the brains for last… the brains were the best part.

But something was wrong… very, very wrong. They were sinking on the ground. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Oh, damn… This really is quicksand…" – squeaked Mr. Ash.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled Mr. Ash's associates.

"You know what? I am starting to think that those nice lads weren't that nice after all." – mumbled Mr. Ash.

"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled Mr. Ash's associates.

"In fact… I strongly suspect that those chaps were indeed the Heroes. And I believe that they have tricked us…" – added Mr. Ash.

"Brains… Brains… Brainnnnnnn…."

Mr. Ash's associates were all swallowed by the quicksand. It was only a matter of seconds before Mr. Ash was also swallowed. What should he do? Should he curse the adventurers that had tricked him and his associates? Should he threaten the Heroes with a promise of a painful revenge? Well… he could do all of that. But he wasn't the sort of Undead to hold grudges.

"Oh, well! You should always look on the bright side of unlife." – reminded Mr. Ash, before being swallowed by the quicksand.

The two friends sighed in relief while they watched the whole Undead army being swallowed by the quicksand. They had won this round.

"Wow! They fell for it?" – asked Grayson.

"Do you think that they are alright?" – inquired Peter.

"Of course they are!" – assured the Fighter.

"Because it seemed so real…" – mumbled the Ranger.

"They must be really expensive actors!" – offered Grayson.

"Well…" – murmured Peter.

"And besides… I am pretty sure that swamps don't have quicksand." – added Grayson.

"I guess that you are right. Shall we enter the Tower, then?" – asked Peter.

"Let's go! If we are lucky, this will all be over before dinner time." – answered Grayson.


	34. The Sal Vampire

**Chapter 33; The Sal Vampire **

And so it had come to this… the final battle. Good versus Evil, nice people against bad people, Light trying to stop Darkness.

"Ah! So you have finally arrived…"

Peter could barely see, because of the darkness that surrounded the mysterious looking guy. He did notice that he was wielding some sort of staff and… there was some kind of flying creature next to him. Was it a bat, perhaps?

Grayson decided to use the torch that they had found inside one of the many chests that were inside the Tower, in order to illuminate the dark room. Grayson couldn't help but feel curious about why the Villains had left a torch inside a chest. And he also couldn't help but feel completely paranoid about the small box with matches and a strange note that said "Use this for your comfort, Mr. Adventurer." that had been inside the same chest as the torch. It just felt wrong.

Thanks to the flame of the torch, the Heroes could now perfectly see their surroundings. And they didn't like what they could see. They were standing in front of a guy wearing a black robe, which could only mean two things: that he was a Wizard or a guy that liked to dress like a girl. Anyway, it certainly meant trouble.

"Who the hell is he?" – inquired Grayson, while glancing towards his friend.

"And why is he wearing a dress?" - asked the Ranger, feeling a bit disturbed by the guy's pale skin.

"This isn't a dress! It's a robe!" – explained the Necromancer.

"Huh?" – mumbled Grayson, trying his best not to laugh.

"Hey! Whatever helps you sleep at night, man!" – said Peter.

The Necromancer looked really annoyed.

"No! I am serious. This is a robe. A Wizard's robe." – added the Necromancer.

In a strange way, Grayson couldn't help but feel relieved that it hadn't been option number two. A Wizard could be a bit of problem, but they were usually rational folks that could be persuaded to go away. But the Fighter just didn't know what to against men that liked to dress up like girls. I mean… should he praise the guy's dress and discuss fashion or just pretend that he hadn't noticed that the guy was wearing a dress? No, no, Wizards were far easier to deal with.

"Ah!" – stated Grayson.

"Makes sense, to me!" – agreed Peter, while nodding.

"Really?" – asked the Necromancer.

"No." – answered the Ranger with a bright smile.

Grayson gestured Peter to shut up, and then looked at the Wizard. So this guy was the Villain, huh? Peter's uncle sure had bad taste for choosing bad guys. Villains should be a lot meaner and cruel, than that. That guy looked more ready to serve some biscuits than to start an epic battle between Good and Evil. And why wasn't he doing the maniacal laugh? Villains should always do the maniacal laugh before the final confrontation.

"Were you expecting us?" – inquired the Fighter.

"What?" – demanded the Necromancer, looking a bit lost.

"You said something about our arrival…" – remembered Grayson.

The Necromancer nodded.

"Oh! That? Yes, I have been expecting you." – stated the Necromancer.

Grayson whispered in Peter's ear: "See, Peter? This one must be another actor. Let's play along."

The Ranger looked at the Wizard and shrugged.

"I never imagined that my uncle could be so creative." – admitted Peter.

"And who might you be, Wizard?" – asked Grayson, while ignoring the Ranger's statement.

The Necromancer looked a bit worried.

"I have a name… A very nice name." – assured the Wizard.

"Good. What is it, then?" demanded the Fighter.

"Well… my Familiar advised me not to tell you." – explained the Necromancer, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Who?" – inquired Grayson, failing to see who the Wizard was referring to.

"He is standing right behind you." – said the Necromancer.

The two Heroes shared worried glances and then looked behind them. A strange flying creature was standing there. It looked a bit demonic and its eyes reflected pure Evil.

"Hello, adventurers!" – mocked the Imp.

"Oh, by the gods!" – yelled Grayson.

"What an ugly bat!" – shouted Peter, feeling completely disgusted.

"I am not a bat! I am an Imp!" – growled the fiend.

"An Imp? What is an Imp?" – asked Grayson.

"Must be an ugly bat." – answered the Ranger.

The Imp spit on the ground before Peter and snarled.

"I am not a bat! I am a fiend from the Hells!" – corrected the Imp.

"So you aren't a bat?" – inquired Peter.

"No." – assured the Imp.

"But you are still ugly." – concluded the Ranger.

"Shut up!" – ordered the Imp.

Grayson looked at the Wizard and then shrugged.

"If you won't tell us your name… what should we call you, then?" – demanded the Fighter.

"You may call me… the Necromancer." – answered the Wizard.

"Wow! Nice evil title, man!" – said Peter.

"Thanks! I wanted it to be "Dungeon Master", but it seemed too pompous." – explained the Necromancer.

"Dungeon Master?" – repeated the Fighter.

"That is also very nice." – added the Ranger.

"Yeah!" – admitted Grayson.

The Imp sighed. How he hated stupid Heroes…

"Shut up! Damn you all! Do you know who he is?" – growled the fiend.

"How the hell should I know, if he won't tell us his name?" – raged Grayson.

"He has got a point, Imp…" – agreed the Necromancer.

"Shut up, you idiot!" – ordered the Imp.

The fiend glared at the Fighter and whispered a few curses. How he hated adventurers… they were almost as dumb as headless Troll. If not dumber…

"He is… the Villain!" – explained the Imp, while making a dramatic pose.

The two adventurers glanced at the Necromancer and tried their best not to laugh.

"Wow! Really?" – asked Grayson.

"Guilty as charged." – assured the Necromancer, while showing a polite smile.

"That is great, man! We are the Heroes!" – said Peter.

"Pleasure to meet you, mister…" – stated the Necromancer.

"Peter. And that guy is Grayson." – said Peter while pointing towards his friend.

"Hello!" – greeted the Necromancer.

"Hi!" – replied the Fighter.

The Imp was completely lost. What the hell had just happened? This wasn't how the final confrontation between the Heroes and the Villains should be. It should involve a lot of screams, threats, fights and… less polite talk.

"Errr…" – mumbled the fiend.

"Yes, Imp?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Are you done being fools?" – yelled the Imp, his mouth full of drool.

"Imp, you should be more polite to our guests!" – stated the Necromancer.

"They are the Heroes!" – argued the Imp.

"Just because we have different perspectives of the whole alignment thing, doesn't mean that we can not get along." – replied the Necromancer.

"I agree." – said Peter.

Okay! It was now official. They were all mad. Completely mad!

"What? Yes, it does! That is the whole point! You guys are good and he is evil! You should hate each other!" – growled the Imp.

"But they are quite nice people, Imp." – said the Necromancer.

"You are not so bad yourself, buddy." – stated Peter.

"Thanks!" – replied the Necromancer.

By all the demons in the Hells! What would they start doing next? Discuss the weather? Sharing recipes for roast beef? Hugging?

No! This madness must be stopped!

"Arrghhh! You are a Villain! Do something evil! Now!" – ordered the Imp.

"But…" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"Now!!!!" – yelled the Imp, his scream echoing through the Tower of Doom.

Peter looked at the Imp and shrugged.

"He is a bit grumpy, huh?" – asked the Ranger.

"He didn't take his nap. He is always grumpy like this, when he doesn't take his nap." – whispered the Necromancer.

Grayson showed the Imp a mocking smile. The fiend showed him an evil glared that clearly stated: "Just one word about this… just one word… and I will bite you."

"But he does have a point… we came here to fight a Villain." – said Peter, remembering the old Dwarf's mysterious tale.

The Necromancer shrugged.

"Oh! Well… I guess that you are right. My sister wants me to kill you." – explained the Wizard.

"Really?" – asked the Ranger.

"Something about proving myself worthy and all that." – added the Necromancer.

"Sisters can be such a pain." – growled Grayson.

"Grayson… You don't have any sisters…" – reminded Peter.

"Oh? Well… But I know that they can be a pain." – stated the Fighter.

"Shall we begin, then?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Why not? You should do a bit of monologue first, mate." – offered Grayson.

"Huh?" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"You know… Tell us about your evil plot and then mock us." – added Peter, trying to be helpful.

The Imp yelled in rage.

"Even these bastards know more about being a Villain than you, Master…" – growled the fiend.

The Necromancer looked a bit hurt by his Familiar's words.

"Hey! I am trying my best, Imp!" – reminded the Necromancer.

"Who cares about that? I want you to succeed! You have to succeed! You must become the greatest and most evil of all Villains!" – growled the Imp.

"Why?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Imp's eyes were suddenly full of tears.

"Because…" – whispered the fiend.

"Huh?" – mumbled the Necromancer.

"Because I want to make my mother proud…" – confessed the fiend.

The Necromancer was completely caught by surprise by that revelation.

"Really?" – asked the Wizard.

"I have failed so many times… I have tried so many times, to turn innocent people into Villains… but I have failed… and I keep failing!" – explained the Imp.

"Oh, Imp…" – mumbled the Necromancer.

A tear was crossing Peter´s face. The Ranger had never heard such a sad story.

"Poor demonic fiend…" – whispered the Ranger.

Grayson looked at his friend and then showed him a worried look.

"Are you pitting a demon, Peter?" – demanded the Fighter.

"Well… It is a sad story…" – explained Peter.

"He said that he has failed to do evil deeds…" – added Grayson.

"Okay! It is a sad story in a twisted sort of way." – corrected Peter.

The Imp glared at the Heroes. How he hated them. How he hated them all. Good guys were the worse kind of mortals. They deserved nothing but pain and lawsuits.

"But I won't fail this time! Not again! I will never again taste defeat!" – growled the Imp.

Peter showed a confused look.

"How does it taste like?" – asked the Ranger.

"Sorry?" – inquired the Imp.

"Defeat. How does it taste like?" – asked Peter.

"Like a slice of bread with peppers and onions, with a little bit of lemon juice." – explained the fiend.

"Wow!" – said the Ranger.

"But I won't be defeated again! Never! This time, Evil shall prevail!" – yelled the fiend.

"Oh, Imp! I never thought that this meant so much to you." – stated the Necromancer.

"Are you kidding?" – raged the Imp, his eyes reflecting pure hatred.

"No…" – assured the Necromancer.

"But I have never talked about anything else besides Evil and Darkness." – explained the Imp.

"I thought that it was just gases." – said the Necromancer.

"I want to bite you so badly…" – growled the fiend.

"I love you, too, mate! – stated the Necromancer.

Grayson looked at the two Villains and shrugged. This was taking too long.

"What about us?" – asked the Fighter.

"What about you?" – growled the Imp.

"What will happen to us?" – inquired Grayson.

"You are the Heroes… the good guys… you will die a very painful death!" – threatened the fiend.

"But I don't want to die…" – squeaked Peter.

"Oh! But we are evil bastards, Mr. Hero. We don't care about what you think." – added the Imp.

Peter´s face seemed to bright up.

"Then you must be politicians." – said Peter.

"I never said that we were that bad!" – stated the Imp.

"Oh! My bad!" – apologised the Ranger.

The Imp glared at his Master and showed him a nasty smile. Now it was the time to strike; the time to reveal to the Heroes their most powerful minion.

"And now… Be prepared to face your doom! Master! Call the Sal Vampire!" – ordered the Imp.

"The what?" – asked Grayson, looking suddenly very worried.

"Vampire?" – squeaked Peter, who also seemed very worried.

"Sal Vampire! You have some people here to see you!" – yelled the Necromancer.

A pale looking woman was suddenly behind the two Villains. Her eyes were bright red, and her dress completely black.

"Hello, darlings! Is it dinner time?" – asked the Sal Vampire.

Her accent was a bit weird. Peter just assumed that she was either drunk or a foreigner. There was little difference between the two, really.

"Indeed… Kill them! Kill the Heroes!" - ordered the Imp, with an enthusiastic tone.

"But try not to make a mess…" – begged the Necromancer.

"Nice one, Master!" – agreed the Imp, while showing an evil grin.

"But I was being serious. We can't have the Tower of Doom all dirty with blood and entrails… Not when I have invited everyone for the party." – explained the Necromancer.

"Party? What party?" – growled the Imp.

"The inauguration party." – said the Wizard.

"Errr…" – mumbled the fiend.

"I have invited all of our neighbours." – added the Necromancer.

"Our neighbours are mostly Swamp Wolves…" – stated the Imp.

"I know. I can't wait for them to try the lasagna." - said the Necromancer.

"I hope that the lasagna has a funny accent…" – mocked the Imp.

The Sal Vampire glared at the two Villains. She didn't like to be interrupted during dinner time. Actually, in order to be more precise, she didn't like to be interrupted during the meals.

"Vill you please shut up? You are disturbing me. I need to concentrate." – growled the Sal Vampire.

"Don't tell me that you invited the people of the City of Neverending, too?" – asked the Imp.

"Of course. And the Dwarves that live in a mine near the swamp." – added the Necromancer.

"Huh?" – squeaked the Imp.

"I already sent the invitations. Want to see the invitation?" – asked the Necromancer.

The Wizard gave his Familiar the invitation.

"It is a picture of a rabbit…" – growled the Imp.

"Isn't it cute?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"I want to puke…" – stated the Imp.

The Sal Vampire growled in anger.

"If you von´t shut up… I vill shut you up myself." – threatened the Sal Vampire.

Both Villains decided to shut up. It was because of her red eyes… they promised you lots of pain, if you even dared to cough.

"Good…and now, adventurers, you vill die." – said the Sal Vampire.

Peter looked at his friend and shrugged.

"Wow! That is one nice costume." – said the Ranger.

"Nah! Completely fake!" – lied Grayson.

"Don't be such a pain! It is a quite good costume!" – stated Peter.

The Ranger looked at the woman and nodded. It was indeed a quite good costume.

"Hey! You with the fangs!" – yelled the Ranger.

The Sal Vampire looked a bit confused. Was the food talking to her?

"Me?" – asked the Sal Vampire.

"I bet that you are a Countess or something." – stated the Ranger, while showing a bright smile.

"I am a Duchess." – corrected the Sal Vampire.

"Ah! See? That is so cliché!" – said Grayson.

The Sal Vampire glared at the Fighter. Was she being mocked? By these stinky mortals? How dared they? How dared they?

"Duchess Garlik." – added the Sal Vampire.

The two Heroes exchanged glances, and the shrugged.

"Garlic?" – asked Peter.

"Garlik. It ends vith a k." – corrected the Duchess.

"Ah!" – said Grayson.

"A Vampire named Garlic? Talk about irony…" – mocked the Ranger.

"I agree. And those fangs are so fake!" – added Grayson.

The Sal Vampire was looking very, very angry.

"My name is Garlik! It ends vith a k!" – raged the Duchess.

But the Heroes weren't listening to her; they were too busy mocking and criticizing her.

"Actually… Now that you mention it… Yeah! If I was a Vampire, my fangs would be much sharper and pointy." – said Peter.

"Are you done insulting me?" – demanded the Duchess.

"Oh! Sorry! Do go on!" – stated Peter.

"I mean, do you think that it is easy to take care of our precious fangs? Some necks are really hard to pierce, you know? Not to mention dirty… Yuck!" – explained the Duchess.

"I said that I was sorry!" – reminded the Ranger.

"The fortune that ve Vampires have to vaste on dentists in order to keep our fangs healthy…" – added the Sal Vampire.

The Duchess glared at the two Heroes. Vampires hated wise guys… especially when they were the food.

Food shouldn't mock you; its purpose was to be eaten.

"Enough of this tiresome chatter! You vill die!" - yelled the Duchess.

But again, the two Heroes weren't paying much attention to her. Stupid food…

"Grayson! I have a doubt… Can't Vampires be killed with a wooden stake through the heart?" – asked the Ranger.

"I don't know. Ask her." – offered Grayson.

Peter nodded. It seemed like a good suggestion.

"Duchess Garlic!" – yelled the Ranger.

"Garlik! Garlik!" – growled the Duchess.

"Whatever… Can Vampires be killed with a wooden stake through the heart?" – asked Peter.

"Indeed. But…" – answered the Sal Vampire.

"Ah! Grayson…. Use your wooden sword and pierce her heart!" – ordered Peter.

"What?" – yelled Grayson.

"Well… Your wooden sword could be viewed as a wooden stake." – explained the Ranger.

"I guess…" – admitted the Fighter.

"Use it, then!" – repeated Peter.

"But I lost my wooden sword in the swamps, Peter!" – replied Grayson.

"What?" – shouted Peter.

"I threw it against a bush, remember? With all the commotion with the Swamp Wolves I forgot to pick it up!" – squeaked Grayson.

"We are doom!" – yelled Peter.

"Actually, I am a Sal Vampire. I don't have that veakness." – explained the Duchess.

"Huh?" – asked Peter.

"I only have one veakness." – added the Sal Vampire.

"Which is?" – inquired Grayson.

"Are you crazy? I von´t tell you." – raged the Duchess.

"Please!" – added Peter.

"Yeah! Please!" – said Grayson.

"No…" – growled the Sal Vampire.

"She is so mean." – stated Grayson.

"Yeah! How can you be so mean to us, Duchess Garlic?" – asked Peter.

"Garlik! Garlik! Garlik! Garlik! It ends vith a k!" – yelled the Duchess.


	35. The Dark Side

**Chapter 34; The Dark Side **

The Duchess was angry. She hated being mocked. She hated stupid food.

And she was hungry… very hungry.

And a Vampire hated to be hungry. It made them… well… it made them feel like they needed to eat something, really.

"Shut up, food! You vill die now." – raged the Duchess.

"Food?" – asked Grayson, looking a bit confused.

"Is she talking about us?" – inquired Peter.

"I hope not. That would make it the second time today that someone wants to eat us." – grumbled the Fighter.

The Ranger nodded in agreement.

"Can I help it if I look tasty?" – asked Peter.

Grayson's glare spoke a thousand words. And all of them were very nasty words.

"You make me sick, Peter." – mumbled the Fighter.

"You are just jealous." – stated Peter.

"She wants to eat you, Peter!" – yelled Grayson.

"I am one tasty Ranger, man!" – said Peter, while showing a bright smile.

The Duchess couldn't help but feel lost. This had never happened before. Oh, there had been screams of horror and maybe a few cries… but never this. Food wasn't supposed to talk. Food was supposed to be eaten.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" – raged the Sal Vampire.

"Calm down, Duchess Garlic…" – begged the Ranger.

"Garlik! Garlik! Garlik! It ends vith a k!" – growled the Duchess.

"Yeah! Right… whatever…" – mocked Peter, while rolling his eyes.

Grayson couldn't help but smile. Peter was good, really good at being annoying. That guy was like an expert. He was a genius at being a whining bastard. It was like watching an artist creating his work of art.

"Peter, we have to think of something." – offered the Fighter, although he was enjoying the spectacle.

"Why? Isn't she just an actress or something?" – inquired Peter.

"Yes, but I think that you made her very, very angry…" – explained Grayson.

The Sal Vampire was currently jumping in anger and screaming. It was just a matter of time, until she decided to hurt them…

"Garlik! Garlik! Garlik!" – yelled the Duchess.

"And quite possibly mad."- added the Fighter.

Peter nodded in agreement. Fun was fun, but the crazy woman was starting to scare him.

"Okay! So what should we do?" – asked Peter.

Grayson shrugged.

"What do you mean by "we"? You are the Hero." – reminded the Fighter.

"Well… you are the Sidekick. You have to help the Hero." – said Peter.

"What?" – mumbled Grayson.

"It's true. Just check a damn dictionary or something…" – stated the Ranger.

"Okay." – said Grayson.

The Fighter took out a small book from his backpack.

"What? You carry a dictionary with you?" – inquired Peter, caught completely by surprise.

"Doesn't everyone?" – asked Grayson.

"Really?" – grumbled Peter, feeling suddenly very confused.

"Of course, Peter. Now shut up…" – ordered the Fighter.

Grayson started reading the dictionary and then showed a sneaky grin.

"Sidekick: a close companion or comrade." – explained Grayson.

"See?" – said Peter.

"There is nothing here that states that I have to help you, Peter." – stated the Fighter.

"What? You have to read between the lines, man!" – squeaked the Ranger.

"I don't think so." – mocked Grayson.

"You are going to let me face that… crazy woman… all by myself?" – asked Peter.

"Hell, yeah!" – said the Fighter.

"But that doesn't seem like the behaviour of a close companion or comrade." – explained the Ranger.

Damn! That made sense. Think, Grayson, think… Think of a way to get out of this mess. Angry women were far more dangerous than a Red Dragon; at least that was what Grayson thought.

"Look, Peter. I would love to help. I just can't." – added Grayson.

"Why?" – asked Peter.

"Because you are the Hero, Peter. You are the one that is supposed to solve all of this mess. I am just here to get the gold." – explained the Fighter.

"And what about the glory?" – inquired the Ranger.

"You can keep the glory. It's overrated." – answered Grayson.

"What should I do then?" – asked Peter, feeling a bit frightened.

"How about following the mad Dwarf's advice?" – suggested the Fighter.

"What mad Dwarf? Wait… The one that gave us the mysterious advices?" – questioned the Ranger.

"Hey, it worked for me. Try it out, maybe it will work." – replied Grayson.

"Okay! Errr…" – squeaked Peter.

"You don't remember you advice do you?" – mocked Grayson.

"No…" – admitted the Ranger.

"Peter, you are such a damn fool." – mumbled the Fighter.

"What was it, then?" – begged Peter.

Grayson closed his eyes and tried to remember the old Dwarf's advice. What was it? Ah, yes…

"When you face the fangs, you must sacrifice that which you hold dear." – said Grayson.

Peter looked at the Vampire and nodded.

"Fangs?" – inquired the Ranger.

"The Vampire, I presume." – answered Grayson.

"Duchess Garlic?" – asked Peter.

"Garlik! Garlik! Garlik! You are doing it on purpose!" – growled the Sal Vampire.

Grayson nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, Peter. So… what do you hold dear?" – asked the Fighter.

"Errr…" – mumbled Peter.

What was it, then? Was it his collection of toothpicks? No. Was it his uncle? Ah! Nope. His bow? Maybe…

"Oh, bugger…" – squeaked the Ranger.

He had found the answer. Damn!

"What is it? What do you hold dear?" – demanded Grayson.

"Nothing!" – lied Peter.

"You have the answer, don't you?" – growled the Fighter.

"Nope." - lied Peter.

"Yes, you do. And I bet that I know what it is." – added Grayson.

"What?" – mumbled Peter.

"The salt, Peter!" – yelled Grayson.

"No, it isn't." – said the Ranger, looking suddenly very serious.

"What is it, then?" – demanded the Fighter.

"It's… it's… you, Grayson." – stated Peter.

"What?" – cried the Fighter.

"You are my best friend…" – explained the Ranger.

"What?" – grumbled Grayson.

"So I guess that you will have to sacrifice your life, huh?" – asked Peter.

"What?" – yelled Grayson.

"When you face the fangs, you must sacrifice that which you hold dear. So sorry, mate!" – said Peter.

"Wait a second… If I was indeed that which you hold dear, and thank the gods that I am not, you would never be so willing to sacrifice me!" – growled Grayson.

"Oh, I am in grief, I assure you. But sacrifices must be made. Goodbye, my friend!" – stated the Ranger.

"Just throw the damn backpack at her, or I will kick your arse!" – ordered the Fighter.

Peter took his backpack and hugged it.

"Never!" – yelled Peter.

"Do it, or else…" – threatened Grayson.

"Or else what?" – asked Peter.

"Or else I will be the Hero." – answered the Fighter.

"What?" – mumbled the Ranger.

"You heard me. The Hero is the one that is supposed to make the sacrifices and act heroic. That's why you are the Hero and I am the Sidekick. So act like a Hero already! Make a sacrifice!" – demanded Grayson.

Peter was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. Grayson was right. For the first time in his life, Grayson was absolutely right. Damn! Why had he chosen this particular moment to be right? Why?

"I guess that you are right…" – whispered the Ranger.

"You will do it, then?" – asked Grayson.

"I guess…" – replied Peter.

The Sal Vampire was beyond madness, now. All she wanted to do was to end the source of her problems, meaning the Heroes, and then go out and howl curses at the moon.

"Die, food!" – yelled the Duchess.

Peter looked at his backpack and sighed.

"Goodbye, salt! I… I… will miss you." – whispered the Ranger.

**… **

The Necromancer was feeling a bit bored. All the Heroes and the Sal Vampire did was scream "garlic". Sure it had been very funny the first six or seven times, but after a while it started to be boring. Why not scream "onion" or "potato" for a chance?

"What are they doing now?" – asked the Necromancer.

"They are throwing something at her!" – explained the Imp.

"Ah! Whatever it is, it won't affect her. Her only weakness is…" – said the Necromancer.

The Imp's eyes were suddenly very wide.

"Oh, bugger…" – squeaked the fiend.

"What?" – demanded the Necromancer.

"They are Heroes… they tend to ruin the Villains plots…" – explained the Imp.

"You don't mean that…" – stated the Necromancer.

"That the backpack must be full of the Sal Vampire's only weakness…" – grumbled the Imp.

"Salt." – concluded the Wizard.

The Sal Vampire was hit right on the face with the backpack. She was completely covered with salt.

"Noooooooooo!" – screamed the Duchess.

The Sal Vampire eventually exploded, but not before the Duchess screamed "Garlik! Garlik! Garlik!" a few more times. After the explosion, all that was left of her was a pile of ashes.

"Damn, they are good!" – said the Necromancer, feeling very impressed.

"I know… That's the problem." – grumbled the Imp.

**… **

"We won! We won!" – yelled Grayson.

"I… loved you, salt… I really did." – cried Peter.

"Shut up, Peter!" – demanded the Fighter.

Grayson looked at the Villains and nodded.

"Is that all you have, Villain?" – mocked the Fighter.

The Imp showed him an evil grin in response.

"I am glad that you asked. Master? Destroy them!" – ordered the fiend.

"What? You mean that I should actually hurt them?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Yes…" – mumbled the Imp.

"Oh! I don't know… I am a pacifist, you know?" – explained the Wizard, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea of hurting others.

"Just… just… launch a spell or two. Please?" – begged the Imp.

"Well…" – whispered the Necromancer.

"For me…" – added the Imp.

The Wizard glanced at his Familiar and then nodded.

"Okay! I will do it. Prepare yourselves, adventurers. You are about to…" – yelled the Necromancer.

"Be destroyed?" – offered the Imp.

"I don't like that word." – said the Necromancer.

"How about: You are about to taste my powerful magic!" – suggested the fiend.

"Well… it's less cruel. And I guess that it is the truth." – admitted the Necromancer.

"Then say it!" – ordered the Imp.

The Necromancer looked at the two Heroes and then showed an evil grin.

"You are about to taste my powerful magic!" – yelled the Necromancer.

"Now give the laugh!" – demanded the Imp.

"Muah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" – laughed the Necromancer, giving for the first time a very impressive maniacal laugh.

"He did it! He did it! He really did it!" – shouted the Imp, feeling very emotional.

The Wizard grabbed his throat and coughed a few times.

"My throat hurts…" – moaned the Necromancer.

"Shut up! You are ruining the moment…" – growled the Imp.

Grayson sighed. He glanced at his friend, that was still traumatized because of the sacrifice, and showed him a worried look.

"We are dead, Peter… We can't defeat a Wizard." – said the Fighter.

"The salt is gone… because of him." – whispered the Ranger.

"Peter?" – asked Grayson.

Something was wrong. Peter was looking weird. Well… Okay, he had always looked weird. But he was looking weirder, if that was even humanly possible.

"It's gone… all gone." – mumbled Peter.

The Ranger started walking towards the Villains. He had his bow ready to shot, although he didn't have any arrows. And his eyes… those weren't Peter's cheerful eyes. They were the eyes of a very determined and angry man.

"Where are you going?" – asked Grayson.

Peter looked at his friend. The Fighter took one step back, just in case he was dealing with a bloodthirsty berserker.

"Better close your eyes, Grayson. I am about to kick some rocks." – said Peter.

The Imp studied Peter's movements and then grinned. So… it had finally begun. The final battle.

"Cast a spell, Master!" – ordered the Imp.

The Necromancer nodded, and launched a deadly ray of negative energy. But surprisingly, the adventurer was able to dodge the magical attack with unnatural reflexes.

"No way!" – stated the Imp.

"He dodged the spell?" – squeaked the Necromancer.

"Damn! He must be the Hero!" – explained the Imp.

The Ranger pointed his bow towards the Wizard and his Familiar.

"Because of you my salt is all gone! I will avenge my salt!" – yelled Peter, looking very angry.

"He is avenging his salt?" – asked the Necromancer, feeling confused.

"Kill him, Master! Kill him now!"- ordered the Imp.

The Ranger let go of his bow's string.

Both Villains screamed in fear and closed their eyes. After a few seconds of waiting, they both opened their eyes and looked confused.

"What just happened?" – asked the Necromancer.

"I have shot you with one of my invisible arrows." – lied Peter.

"What? I don't see the arrow." – said the Wizard.

"That's because it's invisible." – reminded the Ranger.

The Necromancer looked suddenly very worried.

"And you shot me?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Right through the heart, man!" – lied the Ranger.

"Bugger… I guess that I am as good as dead, then?" – inquired the Necromancer.

"Correction… you are dead." – added the Ranger.

The Necromancer nodded. Oh, well, what could he do? If he was dead, then he was dead.

"Damn… Oh, well… Bye, cruel world! Bye, Imp!" – yelled the Necromancer.

"What? But… he didn't hit you, Master!" – growled the Imp.

"Didn't you hear him, Imp? He shot me." – explained the Necromancer.

"But I can't see the arrow!" – said the Imp.

"It's an invisible arrow, Imp." – reminded the Necromancer.

"Or the wound…" – mocked the fiend.

"Must be an invisible wound." – offered the Wizard.

"And do you feel any pain?" – asked the Imp.

"No…" – answered the Necromancer.

"Must be an invisible pain, then?" – mocked the Imp.

The Necromancer shrugged.

"Maybe… can I die now, please? I want to follow the bright light." – explained the Necromancer.

"That's a torch, you fool!" – yelled the Imp.

"So pretty…" – mumbled the Wizard, falling to the ground.

The Imp yelled in rage. How could his Master be this stupid? The fiend started kicking the Necromancer's arm, trying to show his Master that he was still alive.

"I am dead. Let me rest in peace." – whispered the Necromancer.

The fiend glared at Peter and cursed his Master's stupidity.

"So you were able to defeat, my Master? Bah! You still have to deal with me!" – growled the fiend.

But Peter wasn't afraid. Not now. He had just lost a backpack full of salt… because of these damn fools.

"Bring it on, ugly bat." – threatened the Ranger.

Grayson was feeling completely lost. What the hell was happening in here? The Necromancer was lying on the floor pretending that he was dead and Peter was… acting like a Hero?

"Did… did… you just defeat the Villain and called that fiend ugly?" – asked the confused Fighter.

"No. I called it an ugly bat. Pay attention, Grayson." – demanded Peter.

"Damn… You do love salt, huh?" – mocked the Fighter.

Peter glanced at his friend. It wasn't a very nice glance.

"Sorry! Stupid question!" – admitted Grayson.

The fiend was worried. He was about to face the Hero all by himself. Oh, damn…He was as good as dead.

"Stupid, stupid Hero…" – growled the Imp.

"Ready to get your arse kicked, Imp?" – mocked Peter.

"Err…" – squeaked the fiend.

Unless…

"What if I was to make a proposition, instead?" – asked the Imp.

"Proposition? What do you mean? Do you surrender?" – inquired the Ranger.

"No." – replied the Imp.

"What is it, then?" – demanded the Peter.

The Imp showed the Ranger a very evil grin

"Peter… May I call you Peter?" – asked the fiend.

"Sure." – replied Peter.

"Would you like to be a Villain, Peter?" – asked the Imp.

Peter´s face was completely pale and emotionless.

"What?" – mumbled the Ranger, not believing in his own ears.

"Let's face it, my Master is an idiot. But you… you are different." – stated the Imp, trying his best not to lose his nerve.

Grayson knew what was happening. The damn creature was trying to corrupt Peter, to turn him into a bad guy. He was trying to turn Peter to the Dark side. Ah! As if that would ever happen. The fiend must be really desperate.

"He is a bigger idiot." – yelled Grayson.

"Grayson…" – mumbled Peter, looking ashamed.

"You are." – said the Fighter.

"Don't listen to him, Peter! You and I… we can be a great team. Together, we could be invincible." – stated the Imp.

"But…" – mumbled Peter, feeling very confused.

"Think about it! You… Peter… a powerful Villain!" – said the Imp, trying his best to sound convincing.

Peter looked at his friend and then at the evil fiend.

"No! I won't go to the Dark Side!" – yelled Peter.

"Gold!" – promised the Imp.

"No!" – shouted the Ranger.

"Beautiful women!" – added the Imp.

"No!" – shouted the Ranger.

"Errr…" – mumbled the Imp.

Peter seemed more determined. He had passed the test. He was a true Hero.

"There is nothing that you can say, that will make me change my mind." – added Peter.

The Imp sighed. Well… there was that other thing.

"Salt?" – squeaked the Imp.

"What?" – yelled Peter.

"All the salt in the world can be yours… my Master." – promised the Imp.

"All the salt in the world?" – whispered Peter, looking suddenly distant and thoughtful.

What? It had worked? Incredible!

"Yes." – said the Imp.

"That's a lot of salt." – replied Peter.

**… **

The Oracle was still in the swamp. He was feeling a bit worried. He had sent three idiots to face the dark forces. But he was feeling confident. He had seen in his visions that the idio… Heroes would succeed.

He was sitting on top of a rock, reading a very old book. He liked reading, especially books about mysterious legends and magical creatures. This particular book was about one of the Realms most pathetic creature: the Swamp Wolf.

He was beginning to feel a slight headache. Strange…

What was the hell was happening? There was something… pure evil… happening.

The sky… the sky was getting darker. Not even during the night, would the sky become this dark.

Oh, no! The dark forces were winning.

"Something is wrong… the future… is changing… No! No! This can't be! The future is changing!" – yelled the Oracle.

**… **

"So, Master? Will you join the Dark Side? Will you become a Villain?" – asked the Imp, showing an evil grin.

Grayson glanced at his friend that was still lost in his thoughts.

"No, Peter! Don't listen to him!" – begged Grayson.

**… **

The old Dwarf was having visions, again. They were new visions about the future. Oh, no! They were horrible visions about a very dark future.

"You are our only hope, Peter the Ranger… Don't give in! Don't join the Dark Side!" – begged the Oracle.

**… **

Peter nodded. He looked at his friend and showed in a bright smile. Grayson seemed to relax and breathe more easily.

The Ranger glanced at the fiend, and the Imp trembled.

It seemed as if an eternity had passed before Peter´s said anything.

But he eventually did speak.

"I accept. I will join the Dark Side… I will become a Villain." – said Peter.

**… **

The sky was now completely dark.

It had begun…

The beginning of the end.

The Darkness had won. Evil had corrupted the Hero's heart.

"We are all doomed…" – whispered the Oracle.


	36. The Perfect Villain

**Chapter 35; The Perfect Villain **

Grayson was speechless. He couldn't believe in his own ears. Had Peter really accepted the fiend's offer? Sure, all of this was some kind of farce made by Peter´s uncle… but becoming a Villain? No, Peter shouldn't have done that. He was supposed to be the Hero. Joining the bad guys wasn't a heroic feat… it was like backstabbing all that was good and decent.

And Peter had accepted the evil offer? Why?

Because of salt?

"You will what?" – asked Grayson, after a while.

The Imp was also very surprise by the Ranger's revelation.

"Really?" – inquired the Imp, feeling a bit confused.

He had made a similar offer to dozens of Heroes, and none had ever accepted it. Could it be that his luck was changing?

"Yes." – assured Peter.

The Imp started laughing hysterically. He had done it! He had done an evil deed! Every fiend would envy his luck!

"Wow! I have just corrupted the Hero! My mother is going to be so proud of me…" – stated the Imp.

Peter glared at the fiend.

"Shut up, minion!" – ordered the Ranger.

The Imp stopped talking. Had that damn fool just order him to shut up? Had he? Had he dared to order him to shut up?

"Hey! Don't tell me to shut up, you damn…" – demanded the Imp.

The Ranger sighed. He lacked patience for stubborn minions.

"I said… shut up." – repeated Peter, using a very menacing tone.

The Imp wanted to bite the Ranger´s nose off. How dared he talk to him like that? But there was something about Peter´s eyes… they had changed. They were more serious than before. They reflected a very deadly seriousness that yelled "Don't mess with me!".

"Yes… Master…" – whispered the Imp.

Grayson looked at the Ranger and then at the frightened fiend. Peter had never talked to anyone like that. What the hell was happening in here?

"Peter… I think that the loss of all that salt has made you crazy." – suggested the Fighter.

Peter stopped glaring at his minion and looked at his former ally.

"Crazy?" – asked Peter.

"Okay… crazier." – corrected Grayson.

Peter sighed. Had Grayson always been this pathetic?

"Bah! You think too much, Grayson." – growled the Ranger.

The Fighter nodded, and tried his best not to punch his friend.

"You don't think at all, Peter!" – mocked Grayson.

That was enough. He wouldn't stand such insolence from lesser creatures.

"Silence, you fool!" – ordered Peter.

Grayson took a step back. Peter had never yelled at him… well, at least not like that. It was as if Peter despised him.

"Look… Peter… fun is fun, but you are starting to scare me." – explained the Fighter.

Peter laughed at that comment. Grayson's stupidity was very amusing.

"Scare you, Grayson? Oh, my… I am terribly sorry. I didn't want to scare you." – assured Peter.

Grayson gave a sigh of relief.

"Good." – replied the Fighter.

"I wanted to intimidate you." – added the Ranger, while showing an evil grin.

"Well… you are the Hero, aren't you?" – mocked Peter.

"Hero? I am the Sidekick, remember?" – answered Grayson.

The Ranger laughed and shook his head. Pathetic creature, indeed.

"Well, since I am now the Villain, I guess that you were promoted." – mocked Peter.

"Wait… I am the Hero?" – asked Grayson.

"Yes, old friend…" – said Peter.

"Why are you doing this, Peter? Why do you want to be a Villain?" – demanded Grayson, feeling very intimidated.

"Why? Why? Isn't it obvious?" – yelled Peter.

"Please, don't tell me that it is because of the salt…" – begged Grayson.

The Ranger looked suddenly annoyed at that comment.

"What's wrong with salt, pray tell?" – growled Peter.

"Nothing…" – squeaked the Fighter.

"Good. Oh! By the way, I am afraid that I will have to… kill you." – explained Peter.

Now Grayson was really frightened. Peter didn't seem to be joking. What was happening in here?

"You will have to do what?" – inquired the Fighter.

Peter nodded at his friend, and then shrugged.

"Unless…" – added Peter.

"Unless?" – demanded Grayson.

"Unless you join me, Grayson! Join me and become my trusted advisor." – offered the Ranger.

The Imp looked a bit uncertain and then yelled a curse.

"But I am your trusted advisor…" – reminded the furious fiend.

"Shut up, pathetic creature, or you will suffer a thousand agonies!" – shouted the Ranger.

"Yes, Master." – growled the Imp.

"Join you? Become one of the bad guys? Is that it?" – asked Grayson.

The Ranger nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, Grayson. Join me and together we shall rule all of the realms." – yelled Peter.

"And if I don't join you, Peter?" – inquired the Fighter.

"Then, I will have to kill you, Grayson. I am the Villain… I can't leave my enemies alive." – explained Peter, while rolling his eyes.

"You are asking me to choose between living as a bad guy and dying as a good guy?" – asked Grayson.

"I know you, Grayson. You are a coward..." – stated Peter.

The Fighter looked ashamed for a moment. It was true… he was a coward. There was no use denying that.

"You will never choose that pathetic option. Dying as a Hero is very… overrated." – mocked Peter, while showing an evil grin.

"Well… I…" – mumbled Grayson.

Grayson sighed. It was a tough choice… he could either live as a bad guy or die as a good guy.

"Yes?" – asked Peter.

No, he had been wrong. It wasn't a tough choice. How could it be a though choice, when he already knew the answer?

"I will never be part of your mad plan, Peter!" – yelled the Fighter.

Peter seemed surprised by that answer.

"Is that your final answer?" – inquired Peter.

"Hell, yeah!" – said Grayson.

The Ranger laughed. It wasn't a very pleasant laugh.

"Then so be it…" – growled Peter.

The Ranger started walking towards the fallen Necromancer, that still thought that he was dead, and picked up the Wizard's Magic Staff.

"Hey! You aren't a Wizard! You can't use a Magic Staff!" – stated Grayson, looking a bit uncertain.

"Oh, really?" – asked Peter.

Peter pointed the Magic Staff towards the wall behind the Fighter. Suddenly a huge lightning bolt was launched from the Magic Staff and the powerful spell opened a huge hole in the wall.

"Damn…" – squeaked Grayson.

"You were saying?" – mocked Peter.

"Peter… look… just put the Magic Staff on the floor…" – begged Grayson.

The Ranger pointed the Magic Staff towards the Fighter.

"Don't you dare patronize me, Grayson!" – growled Peter.

"Okay! Sorry!" – said Grayson, while making gestures for Peter to calm down.

"I am now far more powerful than you… old friend." – mocked the Ranger.

Grayson sighed. There was nothing that he could do. The only thing that he could do was hope that Peter would snap out of it.

"Will you please step a little closer to the Necromancer?" – asked Peter.

"What? Why?" – inquired Grayson.

Peter laughed and then sighed.

"I am about to kill two birds with one stone…" – explained the Ranger.

"Errr…" – mumbled the Fighter.

"You and the Necromancer are the birds… and the Magic Staff is the stone." – added Peter.

"Peter! You can't be serious!" – stated the Fighter.

The Imp looked a bit uncomfortable with the whole idea. He had gotten quite used to the Necromancer's company and constant stupidity.

"Master? We may need the Necromancer… he is a Wizard and…" – said the Imp.

"Silence, you damn creature! I already told you to be quiet!" – growled Peter.

The Imp had to fight a sudden urge to bow for forgiveness. What was happening? Why was he so afraid of Peter? He was just a damn idiot!

"Yes… Master… but…" – continued the fiend.

Peter grabbed the Imp by his neck and started tightening his grip.

"I have a new rule, Imp. When the Master is speaking… the ugly bat shuts up!" – said Peter.

The Imp nodded in agreement and begged for forgiveness. The Ranger tossed the fiend against a wall. No more interruptions, then. It was time to end all of this tiresome business.

"Any last words, Grayson?" – asked Peter, trying to savour the moment.

"You are mad, Peter!" – stated Grayson.

"Mad? Mad? Did you call me mad? Mad? Ha! Ha! Ha! Mad? I will show you! You haven't seen anything yet! I will show you pure madness!" – yelled Peter.

The Ranger pointed the Magic Staff towards Grayson and the Necromancer. There would be no happy endings… Not when he was around.

"Behold, Hero… your doom!" – shouted the Ranger.

A bright light appeared on the end of the Magic Staff. Soon… it would all be over.

"Muah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" – laughed Peter.

It was the perfect maniacal laugh, the Imp thought. It had been perfect. Not even the Demons and fiends of the Hells could give such a perfect and evil maniacal laugh.

What had he done? What had he created?

Oh, no! The perfect Villain…

Suddenly a pony appeared from nowhere and walked towards the Necromancer, putting itself between the fallen Wizard and the Magic Staff.

"What the hell?" – growled Peter.

The pony looked sadly at the Ranger and then at his fallen Master. The damn creature seemed to be begging for the Wizard's life.

"Is that a pony?" – asked Peter.

"It's my Mast… former Master's pony." – explained the Imp.

"Oh? What a sorry excuse for a Villain. A pony? Bah!" – mocked Peter.

"Yes, Master." – agreed the Imp, but his tones were a bit sad.

"What is the creature doing?" – asked Peter.

Grayson glared at Peter and then pointed at the pony.

"He is trying to protect his owner, Peter!" – said the Fighter.

"Bah! Why would such a pathetic creature even try to protect such a useless excuse for a Villain?" – growled Peter.

"Why? Why? Peter, don't you remember anything?" – yelled Grayson.

"What do you mean?" – inquired the Ranger.

"He is defending his owner because… he is his friend." – explained Grayson, looking hurt.

"Friend?" – raged Peter, as if that word made him sick.

"Yes, Peter! Just like we were! We were best friends, Peter!" – added Grayson.

"We were… friends?" – mocked Peter.

"Sure we had some tough moments and all… but in the end we stood up for each other." – continued the Fighter.

Those words seemed to make Peter hesitate. Could it be? Had Peter hesitate?

"Silence, Hero." – ordered Peter.

"And…" – continued Grayson, trying to make his friend snap out of all this madness.

"I said silence!" – yelled Peter.

The Ranger glanced at the pony and shrugged.

"It was a… noble speech. But it doesn't change anything. Friendship… is part of the past. It made me weak." – explained Peter.

"It made you strong, Peter! You could always count on me or Pawl to help you out!" – stated Grayson.

"What? Are you kidding, man?" – asked Peter.

"What do you mean?" – inquired Grayson, looking a bit confused.

"Count on you and Pawl? Didn't Pawl abandon us, his so-called friends, when Tiffany was about to kill us?" – yelled Peter.

"Well… yeah, he did. But that's not the point…" – mumbled the Fighter.

"And didn't you lie to Tiffany by saying that your name was Peter, in order to save your pathetic hide in case the Thug went after you?" – mocked the Ranger.

The Fighter had to admit that Peter had a point.

"Yeah… I guess that you are right, Peter… We suck at being great friends. But we are only human." – explained Grayson.

"Pawl is a Dwarf." – corrected Peter.

"You know what I mean… We make mistakes, we have flaws. Our friendship had flaws. But we were friends, nonetheless." – concluded the Fighter.

"Our friendship made me weak, Grayson. Friendship is for fools. Why do I need friends when I can have loyal servants?" – growled Peter.

"They won't be your friends, Peter!" – yelled Grayson.

"Bah! They will do as I order. That will be enough. I don't need their friendship… just their loyalty. And they will be loyal… or suffer the consequences." – mocked the Ranger.

"You are not the Peter that I used to drink ale with." – said Grayson.

"Good… That Peter was pathetic." – replied the Ranger.

"No! You are pathetic!" – added Grayson.

Peter showed his friend a mocking grin. Enough words…

"Die…" – whispered Peter.

The Ranger pointed the Magic Staff. Grayson and the pony closed their eyes… So this was it… the end.

But death didn't come.

Grayson decided to open his eyes, in order to understand what was happening. Peter was still pointing the Magic Staff towards them, but he seemed confused.

"Master?" – asked the Imp, after some time.

"I…I…" – squeaked Peter.

"Just kill them already, Master." – said the Imp.

"I… can't…" – replied the Ranger.

"Master?" – asked the Imp.

Peter grabbed his head and screamed in pain.

"Argggggghhhh!" – yelled Peter.

The Ranger glared at Grayson.

"That damn fool… is still alive." – growled Peter.

"What?" – asked Grayson, feeling completely lost.

Peter showed the Fighter an evil grin.

"But not for long." – added Peter.


	37. Good versus Evil

**Chapter 36; Good versus Evil **

Peter was worried. Oh, he was definitely worried. What was worrying him wasn't the fact that he had mysteriously been sent to some kind of forest. Well… actually that also worried him. But what worried him the most was the fact that he appeared to be lost.

"Hello! Is there someone here?" – yelled Peter.

No answer came.

"Anyone?" – asked Peter.

Again, no answer came.

"Not even a good looking woman?" – inquired Peter, feeling a bit hopeful.

If there were any good looking women in the forest, they wisely didn't answer.

"Damn… just my luck." – mumbled Peter.

Peter looked at the forest. It was… well… full of trees. And more trees. And some rocks. And more trees. Oh! And trees!

But no sign of civilization. He was all alone in a mysterious and spooky forest.

He was all alone… he would have to use all of his skills with Nature to survive. He was after all a very experienced Ranger.

Yeah! He was a Ranger! He could easily survive by eating berries and roots… hunting ferocious animals… starting a warm fire…

Errr…

Damn! He was as good as dead.

"Where the hell am I?" – yelled Peter, feeling frustrated by the lack of answers.

"You are inside your own mind, Peter."

Okay! That was strange… someone had answered him. Was he imagining things? Maybe. But who cares? At least he could talk with someone.

"Oh! Really? My mind is a forest?" – asked the Peter.

"It's just a representation of your mind… It is not supposed to be a real forest."

"What? So this is all a sort of… illusions?" – offered Peter.

"You could say that, yes. It's a reflection of your thoughts, of your memories and of your personality."

"But why a forest?" – inquired Peter.

"You are a Ranger, Peter."

"Oh! I guess that makes sense." – agreed Peter.

"No it doesn't. But still here it is, right in front of you."

Well the unseen person seemed to be right, Peter admitted. But… wait a second… if he was inside his mind… then who was he talking to?

"Hey! Who are you by the way?" – asked Peter.

"Me?"

"Are you by any chance a beautiful woman?" – inquired the Ranger.

"I have a manly voice, Peter."

"Oh! Is that a no, then?" – replied Peter.

"Yes."

"You are a beautiful woman, then?" – questioned Peter.

"No… I mean yes… I mean… Argghhh! Damn you and your stupidity!"

"Well… if you aren't a beautiful woman with a manly voice, who are you?" – asked Peter impatiently.

" I am…"

A guy stepped out from behind a tree and looked at Peter. The Ranger couldn't help but feel surprised. What? It couldn't be… but it was… it was…

"… you." – said the other Peter, while showing an evil grin.

Yes! That was it! It was him! Wow!

"By the gods! You are me!" – said Peter.

The other Peter nodded.

"That's what I said." – reminded the other Peter.

"You are really like me! Wow!" – stated Peter.

"Yes, I know it is quite fascinating, but…" – said the other Peter.

"It's like looking at a mirror." – interrupted Peter.

The other Peter gave a sigh.

"Yes, yes… But like I was saying…" – continued the other Peter.

Suddenly, Peter started jumping. The other Peter looked confused and then shrugged.

"Why are you jumping, Peter?" – demanded the other Peter.

"Oh! I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't really looking at a mirror." – replied Peter.

"Pathetic…" – grumbled the other Peter.

Peter started examining the other Peter.

"I think that your nose is a bit bigger than mine, though." – added Peter.

The other Peter grabbed his nose and looked a bit uncomfortable.

"It is not!" – growled the other Peter.

"Oh, it is nothing, I am sure! Don't worry about it." – assured Peter.

"Shut up! We look the same!" – yelled the other Peter.

"If you say so… big nose." – whispered Peter.

"I heard that!" – growled the other Peter.

Peter showed the other Peter a joyful smile. Wow! This was fun!

"Look… Hey, what should I call you?" – asked Peter.

The other Peter seemed to think carefully about the answer.

"You may call me… Evil Peter." – replied the other Peter.

"Evil Peter? Why should I call you Evil Peter?" – asked Peter.

"Because I am the evil version of you." – answered Evil Peter.

"Really?" – inquired Peter.

"Yes." – assured Evil Peter.

"Wow! I have an evil version of me? Are you my evil twin brother?" – asked Peter.

Evil Peter sighed. He knew that Peter was stupid… but Evil Peter had never imagined that he was this stupid.

"No, nothing that farfetched! I am just the part of you that hates doing good deeds and likes running naked in public places." – explained Evil Peter.

"Hey! I also like running naked in public places!" – corrected Peter.

"Oh! Then I guess that I am the part of you that hates doing good deeds." – said Evil Peter.

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Are you sure that you aren't my evil twin brother." – inquired Peter.

"Positive." – assured Evil Peter.

"Because you and I look very much alike, despite that big nose of yours." – added Peter.

Again, Evil Peter grabbed his nose and looked a bit uncomfortable.

"My nose is not big! And we aren't twins!" – raged Evil Peter.

"Oh! But I have always wanted to have an evil twin brother…" – mumbled Peter.

"What?" – asked Evil Peter, feeling completely lost in all of this dialogue.

"I mean, almost every Hero has an evil twin brother or at least an evil stepmother." – explained the Ranger.

"Evil stepmother? I can't be your evil stepmother!" – growled Evil Peter.

"Then can you be my evil twin brother?" – begged Peter.

Evil Peter glared angrily at the Ranger.

"Arggghhh! Fine! Can I please continue?" – asked Evil Peter.

"Of course, my evil twin brother." – assured Peter.

"Just call me Evil Peter, please." – reminded Evil Peter.

"Evil Peter Please? That's a strange name." – said Peter.

Evil Peter sighed. What had he done, besides evil and terrible deeds, to deserve this torture?

"I hate you… I really do…" – growled Evil Peter.

"Why are you here, then? Ah! I know! You have brought me a gift, haven't you?" – asked Peter, looking very anxious.

"Well… it's a sort of a gift…" – admitted Evil Peter.

"Yeah! What is it?" – asked Peter.

"It's your death, Peter." – replied Evil Peter, while showing an evil grin.

"That's a bit lame, man…" – stated Peter.

"I know. But I am the Villain, Peter. I am supposed to say lame things. And I have to abuse on the clichés." – explained Evil Peter.

"You have?" – asked Peter.

"People expect that from me. For example, I was talking with that smelly guy…" – continued Evil Peter.

"Grayson?" – offered Peter.

"Yes, that's the one… And I was acting all mean and evil… It was mostly clichés. I threatened everyone and their goat, I did the maniacal laugh… I even made Grayson an offer to join me." – concluded Evil Peter.

"To join the bad guys?" – asked Peter, completely horrified by the revelation.

"Yes." – confirmed Evil Peter.

"Did he say yes?" – inquired Peter.

"What? Of course not! That would be stupid!" – replied Evil Peter.

"Wait… Didn't I say yes?" – asked Peter.

"I rest my case, Peter." – stated Evil Peter.

Yeah! It seemed like a solid logic and…

"Hey!" – yelled the Ranger.

"I mean why would I want Grayson to join me? He is a stupid coward!" – said Evil Peter.

"Why did you make the offer then?" – inquired Peter.

"Because I am the Villain, Peter. I am supposed to make that kind of offers. People expect that from me. Seriously, man… read a book or two." – grumbled Evil Peter.

"I read books…" – said Peter, feeling a bit hurt.

"I mean real books. Not the ones that involve little ducks and kittens." – added Evil Peter.

"I like little ducks and kittens…" – added Peter, looking sadder.

"Look… The point is that people expect a certain type of behaviour from the Villain." – explained Evil Peter.

"I am so confused…" – said Peter.

"How can I be so stupid?" – growled Evil Peter.

"Hey, that's easy. I am not even trying very hard." – stated Peter.

"Killing you will be a pleasure…" – grumbled Evil Peter.

That comment seemed to make Peter lost in his thoughts… which was never a good sign.

"I wonder… if you kill me, will that be considered a murder… or a suicide?" – asked Peter.

"Who cares?" – yelled Evil Peter, failing to see the point of this tiresome conversation.

"I care…" – mumbled Peter.

Evil Peter sighed.

"I don't know… murder, perhaps?" – replied Evil Peter.

"Okay, then. Thanks!" – said Peter.

Evil Peter nodded and then started searching his pockets.

"Wait… I almost forgot… I have to tell you about my evil plot!" – said Evil Peter.

"You have?" – asked Peter.

"Trust me on this!" – assured Evil Peter.

"I trust you, Evil Peter. After all, you are my evil twin brother." – said Peter.

"There is an old saying, Peter… perhaps you have heard it before… Inside a good person there is a bad person trying to get out." – continued Evil Peter.

"Nope, I never heard it before." – replied Peter.

"Why am I not surprised?" – grumbled Evil Peter.

"I don't know. Why aren't you surprised?" – asked Peter.

"Because you are an idiot." – mumbled Evil Peter, as if the answer was obvious.

"Yes, that's right. Hey! But you aren't an idiot!" – said Peter.

"Ah! Glad that you were able to notice it." – stated Evil Peter.

"How come?" – inquired the Ranger.

"Because, Peter… I have been given a gift." – explained Evil Peter.

"What? Why did you receive gifts and I didn't?" – asked Peter.

"What?" – growled Evil Peter, that was beginning to have a headache.

"I always knew that our parents liked you best!" – cried Peter.

This was complete madness, Evil Peter thought. That bastard was as crazy as a… crazy guy.

"But… but…" – mumbled Evil Peter.

"I mean here you are visiting your own good twin brother and do you have a gift for me? I think not." – grumbled Peter.

"I am sorry, okay? Next time I will bring you a gift!" – assured Evil Peter.

"Promise?" – asked Peter.

"I promise! Now… can I please continue?" – begged Evil Peter.

"Sure." – replied Peter.

"Thanks! So I received a gift… I received power! Unlimited power!" – yelled Evil Peter.

"Power?" – inquired Peter.

"Dark power! It made me stronger… it made me smarter… it made me more evil!" – explained Evil Peter.

"But… who gave you that dark power?" – asked Peter.

"Who? Who? Who?" – mocked Evil Peter.

"Is there a howl in here?" – inquired Peter.

Evil Peter's eyes yelled "bloody murder". He hated being mocked… especially by himself.

"Stupid joke…" – grumbled Evil Peter.

"I know." – said Peter, while showing a joyful smile.

"The Evil Queen gave me that dark power!" – continued Evil Peter, trying his best to forget about that pathetic joke.

"Evil Queen? What Evil Queen?" – asked Peter.

"The leader of the Crimson Draco Legion." – replied Evil Peter.

"I never heard of them." – said Peter.

"Bah! They are pure evil!" – yelled Evil Peter.

"Yeah, yeah…" – mocked Peter.

"No, really… they are." – assured Evil Peter, feeling a bit uncomfortable with Peter's lack of concern.

"And why would the Evil Queen make you so powerful?" – asked Peter.

"Why? Haven't you figured that out already?" – mocked Evil Peter.

"No." – answered Peter.

"Inside a good person there is a bad person trying to get out, Peter. The Evil Queen has given me the power to get out. And I control your body now." – explained Evil Peter.

"You what?" – yelled Peter.

Ah! Finally! The idiot was scared!

"Yes! For years I was trapped in your mind, not able to control your body! I had to suffer horrible tortures!" – growled Evil Peter.

"Tortures?" – asked Peter.

"Well… Watch you take a bath, for example. I mean, Peter, why do you always eat the soap?" – inquired Evil Peter.

"It tastes like salt…" – replied Peter, looking ashamed.

"It figures… You are sick, man!" – grumbled Evil Peter.

"But…" – mumbled the Ranger.

"But nothing! I am in control now! My body! My will! You are now trapped in my mind!" – yelled Evil Peter.

"But… what about me?" – asked Peter, showing a worried face.

"You? My dear simpleton… you are as good as dead." – mocked Evil Peter.

"But why?" – asked Peter.

"Because, Peter… I am evil. I like kicking puppies… I like doing evil deeds… I like mimes!" – raged Evil Peter.

"No!!!!!!!!!!!!!" – yelled Peter, caught completely by surprised by that last revelation.

"Yes! I am pure evil! The Evil Queen made like this! She was tired of your meddling, Peter! She hates good guys! Especially Heroes…" – growled Evil Peter.

"But… if you kill me, then…" – mumbled Peter.

"Yes, Peter. Your body and mind will be all mine! All mine! Muah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" – yelled Evil Peter.

Peter looked at Evil Peter and then shrugged.

"That's not very nice of you, evil twin brother!" – suggested Peter.

"That's because I am not very nice, Peter! I am evil!" – reminded Evil Peter.

Evil Peter took something out of his pocket. It was some sort of a dark crystal ball. The evil version of the Ranger threw the magical object against a tree and a fire started.

"What? What is happening?" – yelled Peter.

The fire was devouring all of the trees, burning everything in its passage. Soon all of the forest would be destroyed by the cruel flames.

"The fire is destroying your precious forest, Peter." – explained Evil Peter.

"But isn't the forest like… my mind?" – asked Peter.

"Ah! For once you are right." – mocked Evil Peter.

"You are serious, aren't you? You really want to kill me!" – squeaked Peter.

"Bah! Isn't that obvious?" – asked Evil Peter.

The Ranger looked at the burning forest and then at Evil Peter.

"Please! Stop!" – begged Peter.

"No, Peter. I won't stop. You are as good as dead." – mocked Evil Peter as he enjoyed the horrible fire.

Evil Peter looked at the frightened Ranger and laughed cruelly.

"Oh! And by the way…" – said Evil Peter.

"What?" – asked Peter.

Evil Peter was a Villain. He was an evil bastard, with a sick sense of humour. He knew that Peter was as good as dead. But why not mock the idiot a bit more? Why not hurt him where it hurts the most?

"Salt sucks." – replied Evil Peter, while showing an evil grin.

Peter's mouth was wide opened in shock.

"What?" – growled Peter.

"Yeah, I have been thinking… Salt is too much salty. I prefer pepper." – explained Evil Peter.

"Only an evil twisted person would say that!" – said Peter.

"Really? I thought that only someone with good taste would say that." – mocked Evil Peter.

"Salt is way better than pepper!" – added Peter.

The fire was devouring everything in its sight, corrupting the Ranger's mind. Soon every tree would burn down... and then Peter's mind would be completely destroyed.

"Ah! All of you salt lovers should die… and I will make sure of that." – growled Evil Peter, while laughing cruelly.

Peter looked at the fire and then started running towards one of the trees. He had to save it from the fire! It was his only hope! If not his mind and body would be occupied by an evil version of himself that hated salt.

"Cough… Cough…" – coughed Peter, looking desperate.

Evil Peter showed an evil smile. Yes! He was going to win! Nothing could stop him now!

"Goodbye… Peter, the Ranger." – mocked Evil Peter.


	38. Salt versus Pepper

**Chapter 37; Salt versus Pepper **

The forest was almost completely destroyed by the fire. It was a horrible spectacle that would represent Peter's death.

Why was this happening to him?

Well… might as well ask the guy. No use dieing clueless, since he had already lived his life that way.

"Why are you doing this?" – asked Peter.

Evil Peter looked at his good version and sniggered.

"I am just following orders, Peter. You don't have to take this personally." – mocked Evil Peter.

The Ranger glared at the fire that was devouring the forest, which was in fact his mind.

"You are trying to kill me!" – reminded Peter.

Evil Peter had to admit that the fool had a point.

"Okay, then you should take this personally. As if I care…" – replied Evil Peter.

The fire had already consumed all of the forest, except for one of the trees. Peter started running towards that tree, hoping that he could prevent the fire from reaching it.

"So what? You kill me. What then?" – inquired Peter, feeling a bit weaker.

"Ah! A very good question. I think that I will kill that smelly friend of yours and that stupid excuse for a Wizard." – explained Evil Peter, while admiring the destruction.

"Grayson and the Necromancer? But why?" – asked the Ranger.

The cruel Villain glared at Peter and grinned.

"Bah! He is the Sidekick. I have to kill him! I am practically doing the world a favour. And then I will kill Roger…" – added Evil Peter.

"Roger? Who the hell is Roger? Is he a pirate of some sorts?" – asked Peter.

"Hardly. He seems like the sort that gets seasick quite easily." – mocked Evil Peter.

"Then who is he?" – inquired the Ranger.

The Villain sighed.

"You know Roger as the Necromancer… he used to work for the Evil Queen. He was one of her favourite children." – explained Evil Peter.

"Used to work?" – asked the Ranger.

The Villain nodded in confirmation.

"He failed his mission, Peter. The Evil Queen hates failures." – explained Evil Peter.

"Look! I never did anything to her!" – yelled Peter.

"You were born, Peter. And I have to undo that mistake." – growled Evil Peter.

Peter noticed that the flames were getting closer and closer.

"You are an evil guy, evil twin brother!" – raged Peter.

The Villain merely laughed at that accusation. His job was almost over…

"Ah! The last remaining tree. The only thing that is keeping you from dieing." – said Evil Peter.

"Please, don't burn it!" – begged the Ranger.

"You fool! I live only to serve the Evil Queen. And if she wants you dead… who am I to question her will?" – growled Evil Peter.

"But you can't be that evil!" – stated Peter.

"Oh, but I am, Peter. I am." – assured the Villain.

"I mean sure you have bad taste and a big nose…" – added Peter.

"My nose is not big!" – yelled Evil Peter.

"… but to kill yourself? Isn't that a bit stupid?" – concluded the Ranger.

"Well you should know, right?" – mocked Evil Peter.

Peter seemed to be lost in his thoughts for a while.

"What is that supposed to mean?" – asked Peter, feeling a bit confused.

"That our conversation is over." – growled the Villain.

The fire was now surrounding the tree and the pathetic Ranger. Soon… very soon… he would have his revenge.

"Any last words… Peter, the Ranger?" – asked Evil Peter, knowing full well that this was one of the most important clichés for a Villain.

Peter glared at his evil twin brother and then at the deadly flames. What had he to lose?

"Salt kicks rocks!" – yelled Peter.

Evil Peter sighed. The flames seemed to keep their distance from him, as if some sort of magical barrier was protecting him.

"It figures…" – mocked the Villain.

"What? I think that they were great last words." – said Peter.

"It's all about salt to you isn't it? I mean… How can you be so… so…" – stated Evil Peter.

"Predictable?" – suggested the Ranger, trying to be helpful.

"No… I think that the word I am looking for is stupid." - concluded the Villain.

"But salt is so great!" – said Peter.

"Salt is salt! Pepper is divine." – growled Evil Peter.

"Pepper tastes like rotten broccoli." – mocked the Ranger.

Evil Peter glared at the Ranger as if he was really offended by that comment.

"How dare you?" – growled the Villain.

"It does!" – assured Peter.

"No! Pepper tastes like pepper! Salt tastes like rotten broccoli!" – yelled Evil Peter.

"Salt is way better than pepper! Salt is salty!" – yelled Peter.

"Salt is an abomination that I plan to… get rid off." – promised the Villain.

Peter looked for the first time really angry, as if his evil twin brother had finally crossed the line.

"You can threaten me…" – said Peter.

Evil Peter looked confused.

"You can threaten my friends…" – added the Ranger.

The fire was getting closer and closer.

"You can even threaten the whole world…" – stated Peter.

Peter's face was full of sweat because of the hungry flames.

"But don't you dare threaten the salt!" – yelled the Ranger.

Evil Peter was truly impressed. He had never seen Peter so angry. Bah! Who cares?

"And who is going to stop me? You?" – mocked the Villain.

"Hell, yeah!" – growled Peter.

Evil Peter laughed at that comment.

"Just die, already!" – said the Villain.

The flames were about to devour the last remaining tree and Peter, when suddenly a strange kind of blue barrier appeared that prevented the fire to pass and carry on it's job.

"What is the meaning of this?" – growled Evil Peter.

The Villain walked towards the strange barrier and examined it.

"A magical barrier? Bah! It must be that damn fool of a Dwarf!" – thought the Villain.

Evil Peter glanced at the hungry flames and then at the magical barrier.

"No matter… the magical barrier isn't going to last forever." – mocked the Villain.

Evil Peter gave the maniacal laugh. It was only a matter of time before his nemesis would be destroyed for ever. No one could stop him! Not even this stupid magical barrier!

"I hope…" - mumbled Evil Peter.

**… **

"Am I dead?" – asked Peter.

"No. Not yet, at least."

The Ranger looked behind him and showed a smile of relief.

"The Oracle?" – said the Ranger.

"Yes, lad. It is I… The Oracle." – confirmed the old Dwarf.

Peter looked at the strange barrier and touched it. He couldn't pass the barrier, but neither could the flames. Ah, ah! Take that you evil pepper lover!

"What is happening? What is that… that… thing?" – asked Peter, while pointing towards the barrier.

The old Dwarf Cleric sighed.

"It's a magical barrier. It will protect the tree from the fire." – assured the Oracle.

"Yeah! Then I am safe?" – inquired the Ranger.

The Oracle rolled his eyes and then looked at his feet.

"Well…" – mumbled the old Dwarf.

"Yes?" – asked Peter.

"No." – replied the Oracle.

"No?" – squeaked the Ranger.

"It's only a temporary magical barrier, lad." – explained the Oracle.

"Oh!" – murmured Peter.

"I am sorry…" – said the old Dwarf.

Peter nodded and then shrugged.

"So… now what?" – asked the Ranger.

"Lad, you are in grave troubles." – stated the old Dwarf.

"I… have noticed it." – assured Peter.

"You are fighting the evil inside of your soul. That's one hell of a battle." – added the Oracle.

"Yeah! And my evil twin brother is winning the battle!" – replied the Ranger.

"Evil twin what?" – mumbled the Oracle.

"It's a long story. Do you want to hear it?" – asked Peter, while showing a joyful smile.

"No." – answered the Oracle.

"But it's a very funny story!" – promised the Ranger.

"What part about the temporary magical barrier, didn't you understand?" – growled the old Dwarf.

Peter looked a bit hurt.

"If you don't want to listen to my stories just say so." – mumbled the Ranger.

"I don't want to listen to your stories, Peter." – growled the Oracle.

A tear crossed Peter's face.

"Why?" – cried the Ranger.

"Because I am afraid that they will make me dumber." – replied the Oracle.

"What?" – asked Peter.

"Indeed." – said the old Dwarf.

"Huh?" – asked the Ranger.

"I agree." – assured the Oracle.

"My head hurts…" – squeaked Peter.

"Good lad, good lad… So I need to put you in top shape in order for you to defeat that bastard." – added the old Dwarf.

"My evil twin brother?" – inquired Peter.

"Yes, Peter… your evil twin brother." – confirmed the Oracle.

"He promised me to bring me a gift next time." – said the Ranger.

"I am sure he did." – mumbled the old Dwarf.

"He is such a nice evil twin brother. He is just a bit weird… he hates salt." – stated Peter.

"This is going to be a lot more difficult than I imagined…" – whispered the Oracle.

"What was that?" – asked the Ranger.

"I said that perhaps we should get started." – lied the old Dwarf.

"Okay, then. What must I do?" – asked Peter.

"Just stay there and be quiet." – begged the Oracle.

"Quiet?" – inquired the Ranger.

"Yes." – confirmed the Oracle.

"Okay, but…" – said Peter.

"Ah, ah! Quiet!" – reminded the old Dwarf.

"But…" – added the Ranger.

"Quiet!" – yelled the Oracle.

"But…" – squeaked Peter.

"Quiet!" – repeated the old Dwarf.

Peter showed the Dwarf Cleric a joyful smile.

"This is fun." – said Peter.

The Oracle sighed. Heroes…

"Please, Peter shut the hell up!" – begged the old Dwarf.

"Man, you don't need to shout!" – replied Peter, while covering his ears.

"Then be quiet!" – added the Oracle.

Peter nodded in agreement.

"Good. My first thought was to use the Power of Friendship." – explained the Oracle.

"Power of Friendship?" – asked Peter.

The Oracle's glare could have destroyed a whole mountain.

"Sorry!" – begged the Ranger.

"Yes. I thought of bringing all of your friends so that they could give you some support and increase your determination to win." – continued the old Dwarf.

"Oh!" - said Peter, and then shut his mouth with his hands.

"But… after seeing your friends… I doubt that they would give you support or even increase your determination to win. In fact, I fear that they would do the exact opposite." – concluded the Dwarf Cleric.

Peter shrugged and showed a confused look. He wasn't following the old Dwarf's logic.

"But then I thought… What about the Power of Love?" – said the Oracle.

"What about it?" – asked Peter.

Strangely, this time the Oracle didn't tell him to shut up.

"Oh, it has better results than the Power of Friendship. The Power of Love has inspired thousands of Heroes and helped them surpass impossible odds and defeat powerful foes." – explained the old Dwarf.

"The Power of Love, huh?" – inquired the Ranger.

"Yes! I think that it can work." – added the Oracle.

"What? Wait a minute! Don't tell me that Grayson…" – asked Peter.

"Grayson? No! Don't be silly!" – assured the Dwarf Cleric.

"Then who? Errr… Look… buddy… I like you and all, but…" – stated Peter.

"No, Peter. It isn't me." – growled the Oracle.

"You sure?" – inquired the Ranger, that was still feeling a bit suspicious.

"That is one the few things that I am definitely sure." – assured the old Dwarf, while rolling his eyes.

"But… I… I don't have a girlfriend." – mumbled Peter.

"I know, Peter." – answered the Oracle.

"I mean I don't have a girlfriend at this precise moment!" – added Peter.

"I know, Peter." – replied the old Dwarf.

"I already had lots and lots of girlfriends!" – lied the Ranger.

"I know, Peter." – lied the Oracle.

"But I don't have a girlfriend… now…" – squeaked Peter.

The Oracle showed the Ranger a sympathetic smile.

"So… you can't use the Power of Love on me…" – mumbled Peter.

"Actually… I can, Peter." – replied the old Dwarf.

"You what?" – yelled Peter.

"Peter… before I show you your true love… I must warn you." – said the Oracle.

"What? Is she ugly?" – asked the Ranger.

"Nah, she is beautiful!" – assured the old Dwarf.

"Is she married, then?" – inquired Peter.

"Oh! Yes. She is definitely married." – answered the Oracle.

"Oh, by the gods! I am having an affair!" – yelled Peter.

"What? No! Nothing like that!" – assured the Oracle.

"But you said…" – stated Peter.

"Calm down, Peter. I will explain everything thing to you. Just calm down!" – begged the old Dwarf.

"I am calm… I think…" – murmured Peter, that wasn't really calm.

The Oracle sighed. This was going to be the hardest part… but he had to warn Peter of what was going to happen.

"If you win the battle against… your evil twin brother… you will not remember anything that happens here." - explained the Oracle.

"What? Why?" – asked Peter.

"Errr… it's because of the magic involve. It is a very complex, technical and boring explanation, Peter. Let's just say that your mind won't be able to handle all of the information you are about to receive, so… it will… erase all of it." – added the old Dwarf, while looking a bit uncertain.

"It's because I am dumb, isn't it?" – mumbled Peter.

"Yes…" – replied the Oracle, looking a bit ashamed.

"I knew it! I am so dumb… My evil twin brother was right… I am a loser…" – whispered the Ranger.

"What? You are a Hero, Peter! A Hero! You aren't a loser!" – said the Oracle.

"Bah! Look at me? I am lousy Ranger, pathetic Hero… what do I have to be thankful for?" – yelled the Ranger.

"Hello, Peter!"

"Huh?" – squeaked Peter.

The Ranger looked at the tree and suddenly someone crossed it, as if it was some kind of portal. And that someone was… a girl. Not just any girl… she was the most beautiful girl that Peter had ever seen. She was about Peter's age and her voice was… well… it could only be described as salty.

"Peter. Let me introduce you to your future wife." – said the Oracle.

"Future wife?" – asked Peter incredulously.

"Yes. I brought here through my magical powers. I had to pray to a lot of gods, mind you. But in the end it all worked out." – explained the old Dwarf.

"She is going to be my wife?" – inquired the Ranger.

"Yes, Peter." – replied the Oracle.

"But she is so pretty." – mumbled Peter, looking a bit embarrassed.

"I know." – said the Oracle.

"And she loves me?" – asked the Ranger.

"Strangely… yes." – murmured the old Dwarf.

"How do I meet here?" – asked Peter, that was still having some troubles accepting all of this information.

"Well… She is a salt vendor of some kind. You will be her best costumer and then… well… it eventually happens." – explained the Oracle.

"What happens?" – inquired the Ranger.

"You will fall in love for her, lad." – replied the Dwarf Cleric.

Peter was quiet for some time. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"And she is a salt vendor?" – asked Peter.

"Yes." – answered the Oracle.

"And I will marry her?" – inquired the Ranger.

"Yes." – assured the Oracle.

Peter looked at the sky.

"Thank you." – whispered Peter.

"Go to her, Peter." – said the Oracle, while pushing Peter towards his future wife.

The Ranger looked really embarrassed. He really didn't know what to say. He didn't even know the girl and they were married. Weird!

"Hello…" – squeaked Peter.

"Hello, Peter. The Oracle has explained everything to me." – assured the girl.

"Errr… I…" – mumbled Peter.

"Oh, right! You haven't met me, huh?" – asked the girl.

"No… Sorry!" – murmured the Ranger.

"No problem. My name is Poppy." – replied the girl.

**… **

There are several mysteries that surround Poppy the Salt Vendor. One of the things that remain unanswered is how she is able to go from town to town so quickly. (Once she had even beaten one of the King's own men on their fastest horse! Some claim that she uses salt to open dimensional doorways. This remains unconfirmed).

Whether she is using salt and magic, or (as some believe) there are actually well over 200 "Poppy the Salt Vendors" out in the world (giving the illusion she's going from town to town so quickly!), there is one thing that is certain - this woman knows Salt.

There is also speculation that she has a "Poppy Information Network" that allows information to get to her as quickly as possible - which is why she may be able to get to town to town so fast, since she's always aware what's going on in the world of salt.

Poppy has mastered the creation of salt so much so that she has even created different tasting salts - one of her top sellers being the Pepper Flavoured Salt!

Some say she uses magic during her sales as well, because even those that don't need salt, find themselves buying salt from her anyway - and usually walk away somewhat dazed. When they turn to confront her, she and her salt, are typically gone.

**… **

"Hello, Poppy!" – said Peter, feeling a bit more relaxed.

She was really beautiful. What? Was he blind of something? She wasn't just beautiful… She was perfect.

"So… we are married, huh?" - asked Peter.

"Yeah!" – answered Poppy.

"How is it like?" – inquired the Ranger.

"A dream come true, Peter." – assured the salt vendor.

"The Oracle… told me… that you are a salt vendor?" – asked the Ranger.

"That's how we met, Peter. You were my best costumer. Well… you will be my best costumer." – explained Poppy.

"I think I am in love, Poppy!" – said Peter.

"I believe you, Peter. I am also in love with you!" – replied Poppy.

For a moment the Ranger looked really embarrassed, but them his face was full of determination and confidence.

"Can I… can I kiss you? Please?" – asked Peter.

"Sure. Why not?" – stated the salt vendor.

So Peter kissed her. It was a perfectly normal kiss, but it meant a lot to Peter. It was more valuable than gold or power. It was almost as valuable as salt.

"Oh, by the gods!" – yelled Peter.

"What?" – asked Poppy.

"You taste like salt!" – replied the Ranger.

"I know…" – stated the salt vendor.

"I love salt!" – added Peter.

"I know…" – assured Poppy.

Oh, by the gods! She tasted like salt! And she was going to marry him!

He was such a lucky bastard…

"I have some people that you probably want to meet." – said Poppy.

"Errr… your parents?" – squeaked Peter.

"What? No!" – mocked the salt vendor.

"Thank the gods!" – mumbled the Ranger.

"Your kids." – added Poppy.


	39. The Last Stand

**Chapter 38; The Last Stand **

Peter was completely shocked by those dreadful words. Okay, they weren't that dreadful! But they were nevertheless dreadful. They were also unexpected.

"Kids… What do you mean by kids…" – mumbled Peter.

"You know… kids." – said Poppy, while patting his face.

"You mean…" – said the Ranger.

It didn't take Poppy long enough to know what Peter was referring to. Boys!

"Yes." – replied the salt vendor.

"They are my kids?" – asked Peter.

"Ours, Peter." – reminded Poppy.

"Sorry… they are ours kids?" – inquired the Ranger, looking a bit anxious.

"Yup." – assured Poppy.

The salt vendor hugged Peter, and the Ranger sighed in relief.

"Oh, by the gods!" – murmured Peter, that was still incredulous.

"They are two wonderful kids, Peter." – said Poppy.

Oh, my! This was getting better and better.

"Two… Wow! I have two kids!" – mumbled Peter, looking a bit distant.

"Here they are. Say hello to daddy." – said Poppy.

Tow little kids were standing next to tree. Hey were cute little buggers. The girl seemed a bit older than the little boy, and resembled her mother. The little boy was very much alike Peter… he was even eating a bag of salt.

"Hello, daddy!" – said the children.

"What… what are their names?" – murmured Peter, that had never though much about the subject.

"This is Salt." – said Poppy while pointing at the girl.

Salt shown her dad a bright smile and then made a little curtsy.

"And this is Salty." – added the salt vendor while pointing at the little boy.

The little boy nodded and then continued eating the bag of salt.

"Oh! They are great names!" – said Peter.

"Yes." – agreed Poppy.

Salty was examining Peter, and making funny faces.

"Why is daddy wearing a wig?" – asked the little boy.

"A wig?" – inquired Peter.

"No, Salt. Daddy isn't wearing a wig." – replied Poppy.

"A wig?" – asked Peter, feeling a bit lost.

Why would he need a wig? Seriously? He didn't need a wig! He would never need a wig. Ever!

"But he has hair on his head, mummy." – stated Salt, that was also making funny faces.

"Hair? I am bald in the future!" – yelled Peter.

"Well… maybe a tiny bit bald, Peter." – said Poppy.

"But mummy, daddy doesn't have any…" – corrected Salty.

"Quiet now, Salty." – replied Poppy.

"I am bald?" – mumbled Peter, looking as if he had lost thousands of gold coins.

"Who cares if you are bald, Peter? I still love you!" – assured the salt vendor.

"Bald…" – whispered Peter, while looking at the sky.

Thanks a lot, gods! Yeah! I mean it! Damn you, gods! Damn you and your little ironies and jokes!

"I said: I still love you!" – repeated Poppy.

"Bald…" – cried Peter.

"Did I traumatized daddy, mummy?" – asked Salty, looking worried.

"Of course not." – assured the salt vendor, trying to tranquilize her son.

"Bald…" – mumbled Peter, while touching his hair.

"Well… maybe." – corrected Poppy.

The salt vendor grabbed Peter´s face and looked into his eyes.

"Peter… Peter, please snap out of it!" – begged the salt vendor.

"Bal… What?" – said the Ranger.

"Time is running out, dear. We have to go now. I wish you good luck in your quest." – stated Poppy.

"Is daddy facing another terrible monster like that scary giant ice cube monster?" – asked Salt.

Peter´s face could only be described as the face of a tortured soul.

"What? What giant ice cube monster?" – mumbled Peter.

"Quiet now, Salty." – said Poppy.

"But… but…" – murmured the Ranger that wanted to know more about the creature that he was supposedly going to face in the future.

"Say goodbye to your daddy, children." – stated the salt vendor.

"Bye, daddy!" – said Salt, and then started running towards her mother.

"What… bald… giant ice cube… bald…" – whispered Peter, feeling completely lost in all of this madness.

Salty looked at his father and sighed. Grow-ups…

"Here, daddy… you can have my bag of salt." – said Salty.

"Bag of salt?" – mumbled the Ranger, suddenly forgetting all of his worries.

"Yeah! You always tell me that salt is the answer to every problem." – reminded Salty.

"Salt?" – said Peter incredulously.

"Yeah! Bye, daddy! I love you!" – stated Salty.

The little boy hugged his father and then started walking towards the tree.

"I… love you too…" – whispered Peter, a tear crossing his face.

Poppy hugged the two children and then winked at Peter.

"What do you say to your daddy, children?" – asked the salt vendor.

"Daddy, you kick rocks!" – yelled the two kids.

Suddenly they were simply… gone.

"Well, Peter. How are you feeling?" – asked the Oracle.

"A bit confused…" – replied the Ranger.

"I mean besides that." – corrected the old Dwarf.

"I am feeling… happy." – said Peter, showing a bright smile.

"Good." – stated the Dwarf Cleric.

"And a bit horrified." – added the Ranger.

"That is only natural. Knowing so much about your future in so little time… it leaves some scars, it does." – explained the old Dwarf.

Peter looked very thoughtful for a moment.

"Am I really going to be bald?" – asked Peter.

The old Dwarf sighed. Heroes…

"I think that you are ready to face the evil inside your soul." – stated the Oracle.

"But… but…" – mumbled the Ranger.

"I have showed you true love, Peter. Use it to destroy your enemy!" – explained the old Dwarf.

"What if I fail?" – asked Peter.

"What?" – mumbled the Oracle.

"What if I fail?" – repeated the Ranger.

"Then… that future will be destroyed." – explained the Oracle.

"What? I will never marry Poppy?" – asked Peter.

"No." – replied the old dwarf.

"And the children… Salt and Salty…" – said Peter.

"They will never be born." – answered the Oracle.

"Did they… did they know that?" – asked the Ranger.

"I warned only Poppy. She said that she believes in you, Peter." – stated the Oracle.

"Really?" – asked Peter.

Wow! No one had ever believed in him. At least not like this… she trusted him. His family had faith in him. Would he dare let them down? Would he dare risk their future?

Hell, no!

If his evil twin brother wanted to play rough… then they would play rough.

"I also believe in you, Peter." – added the Oracle.

"Thanks, mate." – replied the Ranger.

"Bye, lad! Good luck!" – said the old Dwarf.

A strange portal opened and the Oracle crossed it. Peter was suddenly all alone.

No!

He was never alone. Not now. He had his family with him. They had believed in him. They had faith in his capabilities.

He was the Hero.

And it was time to kick the Villain's arse.

**… **

"What is taking so long?" – growled Evil Peter.

The magical barrier immediately disappeared after these words, which surprised the Villain. Ah! This had to be his lucky day.

And there he was… the foolish Hero. Bah!

"Ah! Finally! Are you ready to die, Peter?" – asked Evil Peter.

Peter looked at the Villain and then shrugged.

"I won't die, evil twin brother." – assured the Ranger.

What? Why was he so confident? He wasn't supposed to be confident! He was about to die! He was a loser! Arrrghhh! What had that foolish Dwarf done?

"Bah! What is it then? What did the old fool did to you?" – growled the Villain.

"What do you mean?" – asked Peter.

Evil Peter sighed.

"Is it the Power of Friendship?" – asked the Villain.

"Errr…" – mumbled Peter, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Nah! Too obvious!" - said Evil Peter.

"Well…" – murmured the Ranger.

"Ah! The Power of Love, then!" – stated the Villain.

"You see…" – mumbled Peter.

"I knew it, I knew it! Bah! How I hate the Power of Love! But that won't be enough to stop me, Peter!" – yelled the Villain.

"I am not going to use the Power of Love." – said the Ranger.

"Huh?" – growled Evil Peter.

He won't use the Power of Love? What the… He had to use the Power of Love! That was a darn good cliché! He had thought about several ways to defeat the Power of Love! Peter had to use it!

Heroes could sometimes be so… so… inconsiderate.

"What will use then?" – asked the Villain.

"I am going to use…" – said Peter.

"Yes?" – raged Evil Peter.

"The Power of Salt!" – yelled Peter, showing the Villain the bag of salt that his son had given him.

The Villain looked confused. Talk about anticlimactic moments…

"You must be kidding me…" – murmured the Villain.

"The Salt will put a stop to your evil schemes!" – yelled the Ranger.

"Ah! Be my guest, you fool! I am not like that pathetic vampire! I am a powerful and evil Villain! Give it your best shot!" – raged Evil Peter.

The flames were getting closer to the tree. This was it… the last stand.

"I have the Power!" – yelled Peter.

The Ranger threw the bag of salt right at the Villain's face.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! My eyes! It burns! It burns!" – yelled Evil Peter.

The Ranger looked really surprised at that reaction.

"It worked?" – asked Peter.

"The salt is burning my eyes! I can't see! I can't see! It burns! Ahhhhhhhhh!" – raged the Villain, while grabbing his face.

Peter looked around him and noticed that the flames weren't coming any closer to the tree.

"The fire… the fire is starting to disappear!" – said the Ranger.

"Can you stop thinking about yourself for a moment? You just threw a bag of salt at my face! The salt is burning my eyes!" – yelled Evil Peter.

"I am… beginning to feel stronger. I am regaining the control of my body and mind." – stated Peter.

"You damn, fool! It is just a temporary setback! The burning will not last forever! I will control your damn body and mind!" – threatened the Villain.

"I can not let you do that." – said Peter.

The Villain rubbed his eyes and then looked at the Ranger. Had that fool dared to contradict him?

"What?" – growled Evil Peter.

"The future of my loved one depends on that." – explained Peter.

"What is the meaning of this?" – said Evil Peter, feeling a bit confused.

"Goodbye, evil twin brother!" – said the Ranger.

The forest started to tremble, as if an earthquake had suddenly started.

"I shall return! Do you hear me? I shall return! And I will have my revenge! You damn salt lover!" – promised the Villain.

A huge hole appeared underneath the Villain, and Evil Peter fell right into the infinite void.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…" – screamed the Villain.

Peter looked at the hole and then sighed. He would miss his evil twin brother.

"Don't forget to bring me a gift next time, like you promised!" – yelled Peter.

"I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttteeeeeeeeeeeee yooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuu…" – raged Evil Peter, until he was completely gone.

Surprisingly, Peter had won. He had the control of his mind and body again.

And it was time to end his uncle's quest.

**… **

The Oracle sighed in relief. The Hero had defeated the Villain. The Evil Queen's diabolical plan had been stopped.

Good had prevailed!

Take that Evil! Ah!

Yet… there was something still troubling him.

"The Power of Salt?" – whispered the confused old Dwarf.

**… **

Pawl was standing right in front of the Tower of Doom. He couldn't help but wish that he wasn't.

He had decided to look for his friends. He had been feeling very guilty of the fact that he had… abandoned them when they had been ambushed by that terrible man.

Pawl knew that he was a coward. But he was also a damn Dwarf! And Dwarves didn't run from danger! Danger ran from Dwarves!

So he had started searching for his companions… and their tracks had guided him here. To this creepy looking Tower.

Damn his bad luck!

Suddenly, an arm appeared from the ground.

"Ahhhhh!" – yelled the Dwarf.

A face also appeared next to the arm. It was as if the guy was swimming in the ground. Hey… That didn't make any kind of sense.

"Calm down, old chap! I am Mr. Ash. Could you please help me?" – said the Zombie Lawyer.

Pawl took a deep breathe in relieved. Then he looked at the warning sign that said: "Watch out for quicksand!".

"Are you trapped in quicksand?" – asked Pawl.

The Dwarf was so nervous that he had forgotten to use his fake dwarven accent.

"Oh, boy… nothing escapes you, huh?" – mocked Mr. Ash.

So the guy was trapped in quicksand. Well… he could help him. Pawl put down the barrel full of swamp water and then took the piece of rope that he been using as a belt.

But something was troubling him. Mr. Ash's face seemed… a bit rotten.

"Aren't you a Zombie?" – asked Pawl.

"What if I am?" – demanded Mr. Ash, trying his best not to lose his temper.

"Well… I can't help you, then. You will probably eat my brains!" – explained the Dwarf.

Mr. Ash sighed. Here he was almost being sucked by quicksand… and he still had to put up with these damn red tapes. If he was a cute silly doggy, he would have already been saved.

"Believe me, old chap. I am thinking of becoming vegetarian." – assured the Zombie Lawyer.

"Huh?" – asked the Dwarf incredulously.

"Eating meat is becoming too much dangerous for my tastes." – explained Mr. Ash.

It seemed like a solid reason. Well… why not? He seemed rather nice for a mindless Zombie.

"Well… do you promise then?" – inquired Pawl.

"I assure you, lad. As both a Zombie and a Lawyer!" – promised Mr. Ash.

"Ahhhh! You are a Lawyer?" – yell Pawl.

Mr. Ash sighed. He had forgotten about people's natural reaction about his profession. Darn!

"Damn! Did I say that out loud?" – joked Mr. Ash.

"I won't help you, then! You might sue me!"- said the Dwarf.

"I won't sue you, lad. Trust me on this!" – stated Mr. Ash.

"Ah! Do you think that I am stupid? Everyone knows that Lawyers are amongst the most dangerous of creatures in the realms!" – replied Pawl.

Smart lad…

"Let's make a deal, then?" – suggested Mr. Ash.

"I am listening…" – said Pawl.

"I have been trapped here for a while. I have been thinking… quicksand isn't very common in swamps, right?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"Maybe…" – said Pawl.

"So this must be some kind of magical quicksand, right?" – continued Mr. Ash.

"Yes?" – mumbled Pawl, that wasn't following the Zombie Lawyer's logic.

"And maybe… just maybe… I know how my… former Master created this magical quicksand." – concluded Mr. Ash.

"And?" – asked Pawl.

"And… you could use the quicksand against him." – replied Mr. Ash.

Pawl looked thoughtful for a moment.

"You mean… that I could defeat the Villain?" – murmured the Dwarf.

"Sure, lad. Sure." – said Mr. Ash.

"Why are you doing this?" – demanded Pawl.

"I am doing this, because I don't want to live hundreds of years trapped in this quicksand." – explained the Zombie Lawyer.

That made sense…

"Okay! I will help you!" – replied Pawl.

"Smart lad." – said Mr. Ash.

Pawl helped the Zombie Lawyer get out of the quicksand, pulling Mr. Ash free from the deadly trap with his rope.

"Are you okay?" – asked the Dwarf.

"Ahhhh! I feel much, much better! Thank you, lad." – said Mr. Ash.

"My name is Pawl." – replied the Dwarf.

"Well, Pawl. Your payment is right there." – stated Mr. Ash.

The Zombie Lawyer pointed towards a strange bottle that was on the ground not far away from the quicksand.

"A bottle?" – asked Pawl.

"Ah, yes. At first I thought that it was a mere bottle. But then I started thinking… and thinking… and thinking…" – explained the Zombie Lawyer.

"Errr…" – mumbled Pawl.

"There wasn't much else that I could do besides thinking." – added Mr. Ash.

"And then?"

"And then it occurred to me that that bottle there… wasn't an alcoholic beverage. It was in fact a magical potion!" – concluded Mr. Ash.

"Wow!" – said Pawl.

"Indeed." – stated Mr. Ash.

The Dwarf picked up the bottle and showed a grin. It was indeed a magical potion.

"And how did you know that it had still a bit of potion?" – asked Pawl.

"Pardon?" – mumbled Mr. Ash.

"You didn't know that?" – growled the Dwarf.

"I am a Lawyer, old chap. I know how to bluff." – explained Mr. Ash.

"You lied to me!" – corrected Pawl.

"I know how to do that, too." – added the Zombie Lawyer.

The Dwarf sighed and then shrugged.

"Well… at least I have the magical potion." – said Pawl.

"Go, then! Be a bloody Hero!" – stated Mr. Ash.

"Thanks, Mr. Ash!" – said Pawl.

The Dwarf started running towards the Tower of Doom.

His friends had counted on him and he had failed them. Now it was time to set things right!

"Yes, yes… good luck, lad!" – said the Zombie Lawyer.

Mr. Ash looked a bit tired. It had been a busy day. And he was still hungry…

"I wonder if cow's brains are considered vegetables…" – thought Mr. Ash.


	40. The End? No, just the Beginning!

**Chapter 39; The End? No, just the Beginning! **

Grayson sighed. Why was Peter taking so long to kill them? Was he savouring his victory in some twisted and evil kind of way?

"Who is still alive, Peter?" – asked the Fighter after waiting a few minutes for Peter to continue his monologue.

"Master… Why haven't you killed them already?" – growled the fiend.

Peter glanced at his friend and then rubbed his head.

"What… what happened?" – asked Peter.

"You were getting ready to kill me, the Necromancer and the pony." – reminded Grayson.

Peter looked confused and then blinked.

"What? I would never hurt the Necromancer and the pony!" – stated the Ranger.

"What?" – said the Fighter.

"Huh?" – squeaked the Imp.

The Ranger looked at the Magic Staff as if he was seeing it for the first time.

"And why am I holding a stick?" – asked Peter.

The Ranger threw the Magic Staff to the ground and then scratched his beard. The Imp's mouth went suddenly wide open in confusion. What the hell was happening here?

"Peter? Is that you?" – asked Grayson.

"Errr… I think so. I think I am me." – replied Peter.

"Good gods, man! You got crazy for a second!" – said Grayson.

"I did? I can't remember anything…" – explained the Ranger.

"So… are you still going to kill me?" - inquired the Fighter.

"What? Of course not!" – replied Peter.

"Damn! You are back to normal, aren't you?" – growled the Imp.

"When was I not normal?" – asked the Ranger.

"Arrghhh! And everything was going so well!" – yelled the Imp.

"Sorry…" – said Peter.

The Imp sighed. That damn fool could have been the perfect Villain! He had destroyed the Imp's dreams. How dared he do that? How dared he?

"Bah! Who cares! I can still kill you all!" – threatened the fiend.

"What?" – yelled Grayson.

"Stupid ugly bat…" – mumbled Peter.

"I am not a bat!" – raged the Imp.

"Ah!" – mocked the Ranger.

"Nor am I stupid and ugly." – added the Imp.

"Yeah, yeah…" – joked Peter.

"I hate you." – growled the Imp.

**… **

Pawl was standing right in front of the Tower of Doom. So… this was it. What the hell was he supposed to do?

"When you go into the darkness, shake the potion and throw it away!" – whispered Pawl.

Hum… That was a tough one. It could mean a lot of things.

Finally, Pawl decided that his best move would be to shake the potion and then throw it against the Tower.

"I hope this works…" – said the Dwarf.

**… **

"And now… pathetic Heroes… you will die!" – yelled the fiend.

"Well… at least you will die by my side, Peter." – said Grayson.

"Oh! That's nice." – replied Peter.

"Yeah! That way I know that you will suffer." – added the Fighter.

"Errr… that wasn't so nice." – said Peter.

"Nice? You were going to kill me!" – stated Grayson.

"I am telling you… I don't remember anything!" – explained Peter.

"Well, I do! And I won't forget it!" – growled the Fighter.

"But we are about to die, Grayson. We can't die angry." – said the Ranger.

"No? Just watch." – replied Grayson.

"I don't want to die like this, Grayson!" – said Peter.

"I don't want to die at all, Peter." – added the Fighter.

"What I mean is… if I have to die, then I prefer to die with a clean conscience." – explained the Ranger.

"So that's it? I won't forgive you, Peter! And I hope you rot in Hell!" – yelled Grayson.

"What? Really?" – asked Peter.

"Nah! I forgive you. I would have done the same." – assured the Fighter.

"This is strange…" – said Peter.

"What is?" – inquired Grayson.

"Haven't we said something like this before?" – asked Peter.

"I don't remember." – lied Grayson.

"Well… I do… it was something about an ambush…" – mumbled the Ranger.

"Errr… you must have imagined it!" – lied Grayson.

"Yeah! Maybe you are right." – said Peter.

"Shut up! Shut the hell up! Why can't you bastards just be quiet for a moment! Let me enjoy this massacre! Is it too much to ask?" – raged the Imp.

"Oh! Sorry! We are very inconsiderate!" – stated Peter.

"Thank you… why the hell is the Tower of Doom trembling?" – asked the Imp.

The Tower was indeed trembling. Grayson decided to look up through the hole in the wall that Peter had created when he had used the Magic Staff.

"Because it is being sucked by quicksand." – explained Grayson.

"Darn… Talk about deus ex machina…" – mumbled the Imp.

"Talk about what?" – asked Peter.

"Just shut the hell up! That's it! I am going to kill!" – threatened the Imp.

The Ranger looked at his friend and then nodded.

"Jump, Grayson!" – yelled Peter.

"What? Are you crazy?" – asked Grayson.

Peter looked confused for a moment and then glanced at his friend.

"It was a rhetorical question, Peter." – assured the Fighter.

Both Heroes jumped through the hole in the wall.

"Damn you, Heroes! Damn you all!" – yelled the Imp.

The Imp looked at the Necromancer and then at the pony. Damn! They were useless! Completely useless! It was up to him to save them.

Ah! But did he want to save them?

Well… he needed a Master. It was the only way for a Demon to stay on this stupid dimension. And since Peter wasn't a Villain anymore, that damn fool would have to do.

"Master! Master! We have to go!" – begged the fiend.

"Imp… I am dead. Weren't you paying any attention?" – whispered the Necromancer.

How could someone be this stupid?

What could he do? What could he do?

He didn't have any ideas.

Well… there was that one. But he would certainly get in lots of trouble for that. It was almost madness, really. Who would dare create a portal to…

Suddenly the Tower's ceiling started falling on top of the Villains.

The Imp had no choice, but to create the damn portal in order for him and his Master escape.

**… **

**"And then I tricked the poor buggers. They are now selling ice cold lemonade in the cold mountains."** – mocked the Nameless One.

The Nameless One was having a party. It was his birthday. How he loved his birthday. He liked receiving gifts and being praised by other lesser Demons. What kind of Demon wouldn't like the attention?

Of course his Mother didn't seem to care. She was always drunk and she always forgot about his birthday. Damn that silly old wench!

"You are the most evil of all the Demons, Nameless One." – said one of the Demons.

"Hurrah!" – yelled all of the Demons.

**"I know."** – assured the Nameless One.

"The cruellest of all Demons!" – yelled another Demon.

"Hurrah!" – yelled all of the Demons.

"The smelliest, too!" – added another one of the Demons.

"Hurra… huh?" – growled the other Demons.

"He is…" – mumbled the Demon that had spoken.

"Shut up, Fred!" – yelled a Demon.

"You have guest, Nameless One." – said one of the Demons.

A portal had appeared right in the middle of the huge cavern.

The Nameless One sighed. He doubted that it would be his cruel Mother…

**"Bah! Who dares disturb me?" **– growled the Nameless One.

A figure crossed the portal and then stood still for a moment, as if he was examining his surroundings.

"Hello, Nameless One!"

**"Oh, no… Not him… anyone except him." **– cried the Nameless One.

"Hello! How are you, mate?" – asked the Necromancer.

**"Horrible…" –** growled the huge Demon.

"Who the hell is he?" – asked one of the Demons.

"Isn't he a damn Human?"- raged another of the Demons.

"He stinks, too." – said the other Demon.

"Shut up, Fred!" – growled a Demon.

**"Why are you here, human?" **– inquired the Nameless One.

"I died." – explained the Necromancer.

**"What? When?" **– asked the huge Demon.

"Today! Isn't that great?" – asked the Necromancer.

**"Just my luck…" **– whispered the Nameless One.

"Wait a second! He isn't dead! He is still alive!" – growled one of the Demons.

**"Bah! Is this true?" **– asked the Nameless One.

"Nope. I am dead. Just ask the Imp." – said the Necromancer.

**"Imp?" **– yelled the huge Demon.

"Hello… Nameless One." – squeaked the Imp, that had been hiding behind his Master.

**"Why is this… damn human… standing right in front of me?" **– asked the huge Demon.

"Errr…" – mumbled the Imp.

**"In my Hell?" **– growled the Nameless One.

"Errr…" – moaned the little fiend.

**"When he is clearly still alive?" **– demanded the huge Demon.

"I had to open a portal to this Hell, Nameless One, in order to save my Master's life. I am sor…" – explained the Imp.

**"Enough! I will not tolerate this… this… insolence!" **– raged the Nameless One.

"Hey! I died! I signed the contract. I have the right to be here!" – reminded the Necromancer.

"He wants to go to Hell?" – asked one of the Demons.

"Is he crazy?" – inquired another one.

"Doesn't he stink?" - asked one of the other Demons.

"Shut up, Fred!" – growled a Demon.

**"You aren't dead! You can't be here!" **– explained the Nameless One.

"I am dead. I know that I am dead. And since I am dead, I have the right to be here." – said the Necromancer.

"Kill him, Nameless One!" – yelled one of the Demons.

"Yeah!" – agreed another Demon,

"I mean… he really, really stinks!" – said a Demon.

"Shut up, Fred!" – growled one of the other Demons.

**"I can't kill him! I don't want him here forever!" **– explained the Nameless One.

"But he is already here…" – said one of the Demons.

Suddenly, a pony crossed the portal and started licking the Necromancer's face. The portal eventually disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Pony! You saved him, too?" – asked the Necromancer.

"Damn! He managed to cross the portal!" – growled the Imp.

"A pony?" – asked a Demon.

"Hey! Isn't that a…" – said another Demon.

**"Yes!" **– replied the Nameless One.

"You gave the human a…" – asked a Demon.

**"Yes!" **– confirmed the huge demon.

"Damn! You are really evil, Nameless One!" – said another Demon.

**"I know…" **– stated the Nameless One.

"A what?" – asked the Necromancer.

**"Don't tell him!" – **ordered the Nameless One.

"He is a Smelly Pony." – explained a Demon.

"Shut up, Fred!" – growled another Demon.

"Smelly Pony? He isn't smelly." – said the Necromancer.

"What? You gave my Master a Smelly Pony? How could you, Nameless One? I was standing right next to him most of the time!" – raged the Imp.

"**Enough! Do not question my actions, Imp!" **– ordered the Nameless One.

"He is smelly alright… Just don't say "the" word." – explained a Demon.

"What word?" – asked the Necromancer.

"No, Fred, don't!" – ordered a Demon.

"Banana." – replied the other Demon.

The pony looked a bit angry at the sound of that word. And then… there was a very loud and horrible noise as if a giant had farted.

**"Argghhhhh!" **– yelled the Nameless One.

"My eyes!" – cried the Imp.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh! It stinks! It stinks!" - squeaked another Demon.

"Shut up, Fred!" – growled a Demon.

**"The horror! The horror!" **– yelled the huge Demon.

"Agony!" – shouted the Imp.

"I can't smell a thing. I have a bit of a cold, you know?" – explained the Necromancer.

"I want to die!" – said one of the other Demons.

"Maybe if I say it a few more times… Banana!" – said the Necromancer.

**"Nooooo!" **– yelled the huge Demon.

There was another farting noise, but the pony didn't look as angry as before.

"Please! Have mercy!" – begged one of the Demons

"Banana! Banana! Banana! Banana! Banana!" – yelled the Necromancer.

There were more farting noises and one of them seemed to last a century.

**"I can't breathe!" **– growled the Nameless One.

"I can't think!" – said the Imp.

"I can't remember my name!" – yelled another of the Demons.

"I remember mine." – stated one of the Demons.

"Shut up, Fred!" – growled the Demon.

**"Arrrghhhhh!" **– yelled the Nameless One.

**… **

Mr. Ash sighed. So this was it then? The Heroes had won, the Villains had lost. But what about the Villain's minions? What would Destiny have reserved for them?

"Damn… What now? I have no Master… no associates… I am all alone." – cried Mr. Ash.

Wait a second. He could have sworn that he had heard someone talking. It had been near the destroyed Tower.

"Is someone there? Anyone?" – asked the Zombie Lawyer.

A pile of ashes said a few curses and then started crying.

"Oh! A pile of ashes! A talking pile of ashes!" – mumbled Mr. Ash.

"I am not a talking pile of ashes! I am a Sal Vampire!" – growled the pile of ashes.

"What? It can't be! Miss Garlik?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"Garlik! Garli… Vait! You said my name right!" – said the pile of ashes.

"Don't you remember me? It's me! Ash Bunnyslipper!" – explained the Zombie Lawyer.

"Ash Bunnyslipper? The charming Zombie Lawyer?" – asked Garlik.

"Oh, Miss Garlik! I can't believe that I have found you at last!" – stated Mr. Ash.

"Vhy?" – inquired Garlik.

"Because… because… quite frankly my dear… To hell with it! I love you, darling! I loved you ever since I saw you for the first time in that graveyard near the City of Neverending!" – explained Mr. Ash.

"Really? Actually… I confess that I also like you very much." – mumbled Garlik.

"Really?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"You are a very sexy Zombie, Ash." – added Garlik.

"I bet that you say that to all Zombies." – said Mr. Ash, while looking embarrassed.

"I think that I love you, too… Ash." – added Garlik.

"Call me Ashy!" – stated Mr. Ash.

"Oh, Ashy!" – said Garlik.

"Kiss me, Miss Garlik!!" – said Mr. Ash.

"I can't… I am a pile of ashes." – reminded Garlik.

Mr. Ash ignored that last comment and kissed the pile of ashes. It wasn't the best kiss of all times, but it had definitely been one of the most romantic ones.

"I love you, Ashy!" – added Garlik.

"I love you, Miss Garlik!" – replied Mr. Ash.

"Can you please put my ashes inside a coffin? I vant to recover my body back." – asked Garlik.

"Can you do that?" – inquired the Lawyer Zombie.

"Yes, I only have to vait until morning." – explained Garlik.

"Okay, then!" – said Mr. Ash.

"And dear…" – mumble Garlik.

"Yes, Miss Garlik?" – asked Mr. Ash.

"Thank you." – added Garlik.

Yes. Sometimes Destiny could be a very romantic guy.

**… **

"Lads! Be ye alright?" – asked Pawl.

Grayson opened his eyes. It had been one hell of a jump. And he was alive? Wow! Talk about damn luck.

"My body aches… It seems like someone fell on top of me." – mumbled Grayson.

"I did! Sorry!" – said Peter.

"What? But you jumped first!" – growled Grayson.

"I said that I was sorry!" – reminded Peter.

"Who cares? Pawl did you have anything to do with the destruction of that damned Tower?" – asked the Fighter.

"Yes… sorry, lad!" – replied the Dwarf.

"Sorry? Hell you are a great Hero!" – yelled Grayson.

"Hey! I am the Hero!" – reminded Peter.

"No, Peter… You are a backstabbing bastard." – mocked Grayson.

"We can't please everyone, Grayson!" – said Peter.

"Hey! Pawl still has the swamp water!" – pointed out Grayson.

"Ah! We can still complete our quest!" – stated the Ranger.

"Hell, yeah!!" – yelled Grayson.

"We kick rocks!" – said Peter.

"Don't ruin the moment, Peter." – growled Grayson.

"And… What is it, Pawl?" – asked Peter, noting that the Dwarf was looking frightened.

The two Heroes looked behind them and were caught completely by surprised by the spectacle. Behind them was a Dwarf army. All of the Dwarves looked like they were ready to destroy everything that dared crossed in their path. It was a very impressive look. It made you wish that you were somewhere else.

"Hello!" – said King Goldlover.

"Dwarves… Thousands of Dwarves…" – mumbled Grayson.

"We were getting ready to destroy the City of Neverending, but we decided to pass through the swamp because we had an invitation for a party." – explained King Goldlover.

"Oh! Destroy the City of Neverending?" – asked Peter.

"What?" – mumbled Grayson.

"Why?" – inquired Peter.

"Because of him." – growled the King, while pointing towards Pawl.

"Pawl?" – asked Peter.

"Huh?" - mumbled Grayson.

"Me said me was sorry, me King!" – stated Pawl.

"Yes, yes… Guards!" – yelled King Goldlover.

The guards picked up their axes and were getting themselves ready to attack the adventurers, when all of the sudden someone screamed: "Wait!"

King Goldlover glanced at the Dwarf that had spoken and sighed.

"The Oracle? What is it?" – asked the King.

"These lads are Heroes! They have saved the realms! They defeated the evil Villains that were going to unleash the darkness and chaos!" – explained the Oracle.

"These… lads did all that?" – inquired King Goldlover.

"Yes!" – replied the Oracle.

"You sure?" – asked King Goldlover.

"Yes!" – assured the old Dwarf.

"Does that mean that we aren't going to war?" – inquired the King.

"Yes!" – growled the Oracle.

"Errr… and that I can't kill them?" – asked King Goldlover.

"You can't kill them! They are Heroes!" – reminded the Dwarf Cleric.

"What about the impolite Dwarf?" – begged the King.

"No!" – yelled the Oracle.

"Can I at least order my guards to hurt him?" – begged King Goldlover.

"No!" – raged the Oracle.

"Just a bit…" – squeaked the King.

"No!" – yelled the old Dwarf.

"You never let me do anything." – mumbled King Goldlover.

**… **

So eventually the dwarven army left. The adventurers didn't mind that! They hated being near a huge army with sharp axes. It made them uneasy. But they were still in the swamp… it was time to go home.

"Did you understand any of what happened?" – asked Peter.

"Nah! Who cares?" – replied Grayson.

The three adventurers started walking, hoping that they would be able to be home in time for dinner.

"Lads! The barrel is a bit heavy!" – mumbled the Dwarf.

"Well, Pawl. You are the Hero. You have to carry the barrel." – mocked Grayson.

"But…" – squeaked the Dwarf.

"Or do you prefer to be remembered as the party's traitor?" – asked the Fighter.

"Traitor?" – inquired Pawl.

"You did abandon us when we were ambushed by Tiffany." – reminded Peter.

"Oh! Aye! Aye! Me will gladly carry the heavy barrel full of swamp water!" – said Pawl.

"Smart decision, Pawl." – stated Grayson.

"What now, Grayson?" – asked Peter.

"Let's go get a drink. I seriously need to forget all about this!" – mumbled Grayson.

"Forget it? Grayson… don't you want to be a Hero anymore?" – inquired Peter.

"Well… I…" – said Grayson.

Grayson looked at Peter. The damn fool was making those damn puppy eyes of his, begging for the right answer. You just couldn't say no to those puppy eyes…

"Who knows, Peter? Who knows?" – replied Grayson, feeling a bit angry at his apparent lack of self-esteem.

"Does that mean?" – mumbled Peter.

"I don't know what it means! Let's leave it that way!" – growled Grayson.

"Oh, you won't regret it, Grayson! Oh, I can't wait for our next adventure!" – said Peter.

"Did I say that we were going on a next adventure? I think not!" – raged the Fighter.

"Aye ye did, lad." – said Pawl.

"No, I didn't!" – growled Grayson.

"Yes, you did!" – replied Pawl.

"No, I didn't!" – yelled Grayson.

"I just can't wait! I hope that it involves a dragon." – said Peter.

"I hate you, Peter… I really do." – mumbled Grayson.

**… **

Several hours later…

"Are we lost?" – asked Grayson, looking a bit impatient.

Peter glanced at his friend and showed him a nervous smile.

"Define lost." – said Peter.

**The End **


	41. Credits

**Credits: **

**Neverending Pie**

**Music written by Christopher Ames (a.k.a. ****Nameless)**

(To the tune of American Pie, by Don Mclean...)

A long, long time ago,  
I can still remember how we followed a map from Pawl.  
And I knew if we met again,  
That I'd demand a refund then,  
And maybe we'd find our way after all.  
But Stonemountain made me shiver,  
With every mouthful from the river.  
Laundry on the cave floor;  
I couldn't drink any more!  
And I can't remember if I cried,  
When I read that Pawl the Dwarf had died,  
But he looked so CUTE with wings inside!  
The day lost was defined.

So bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I- THUMP

Did you read the Art of War?  
'Cause Peter's never read before,  
Because hot chicks noticed him so.  
And do you believe in kicking rocks?  
Can you find your way with growing moss?  
And can you reach Ator faster than real slow?  
Well I know you bought way too much salt,  
'Cause it seems that we're broke by default.  
It's really something to savour,  
Yeah, I dig that pepper flavour!  
I was a fresh teenage ranger to-go,  
With big plans and a bigger nose,  
But I knew I'd fallen far too low,  
The day lost was defined.

And I was singing:  
Bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I- THUMP

For 21 days we've been on the trail,  
And I'm dangerously low on ale,  
But in the Hero's Bar that shall be rectified.  
The goblins danced to themselves inside,  
In nothing but their leather hides,  
And voices that have been modified.  
To slay a dragon would be bold,  
The aim to steal fifty thousand gold.  
Fame and fortune would be grand,  
After crossing all this sand!  
And while the knights told daring tales,  
Alan got drunk from many ales,  
Poppy made plenty of sales,  
The day lost was defined.

We were singing:  
Bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I- THUMP

Friggin' lost in the city of Stonefrost,  
Is a glowy sword worth the cost,  
When it's cursed with a voice?  
Amiee's found some more great deals,  
With stolen gold they were a steal!  
For real arrows we'll rejoice.  
Kingsleaf grows up in the trees,  
Next time could you remember please?  
Chafing can be a bitch,  
Not to mention the itch.  
Well as we tried to reach Ator,  
Wondering what Peter summoned for,  
Do you believe the dragon lore?  
The day lost was defined.

We started singing:  
Bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I- THUMP

Our plans require a quick revision,  
I immediately regret this decision,  
With no time left to avoid this strife.  
Douglas be nimble, Vern be quick,  
Or Ator will be in quite a stick,  
From bags of salt that somehow obtained life.  
And as Andrea took the stage,  
She struck Ronald's bodyguard with rage.  
No obstacle or test,  
Could stop her in her quest.  
As Daniel the Destructive took her side,  
You can not run, you can not hide,  
I saw Mother laughing cruelly inside,  
The day lost was defined.

She was singing:  
Bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I- THUMP

I once dated a girl from Galana,  
She turned out to be a bit bananas,  
She just swore and ran away.  
I went down to a crab juice store,  
Where I'd payed for a meal once before,  
But the woman said that we couldn't pay.  
And in the streets Connor still played,  
Rainbow prowled and Lorraine stayed,  
But not a word was spoken;  
The fourth wall had been broken.  
And the three that I quested for:  
Fame, fortune and women whore,  
Could be the last I ever saw.  
The day lost was defined.

And they were singing:  
Bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I- THUMP

They were singing:  
Bye, bye, fighter and ranger guy,  
Walked to the wishing well, but the wishing well was dry.  
Alan's drunk on whiskey and rye,  
Singing this'll be the day that I fly!

THUMP

**I want dedicate this story to: **

Tawmis Logue and Adam Freese (Creators of Neverending Nights)

Daniel Salgueiro (Main reviewer and great friend)


End file.
